


the nerdy and the inked

by gotbahp



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Explicit Language, Fluff, Fluff and Crack, Light Angst, M/M, obligatory tag about how jeno is a softie and just want cuddles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-21
Updated: 2020-04-21
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:54:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 26,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23667949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gotbahp/pseuds/gotbahp
Summary: “Haven’t you learnt that it’s rude to stare?”(The only similarity between Renjun and Jeno is the fact that they are notorious, for very different reasons. But they find themselves catching feelings anyway.)
Relationships: Huang Ren Jun/Lee Jeno, Huang Ren Jun/Wong Yuk Hei | Lucas, Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Mark Lee
Comments: 34
Kudos: 266
Collections: noren fic fest round 1





	the nerdy and the inked

**Author's Note:**

> When I saw the prompt, I was drawn to it immediately, and I knew I have to write this. Thank you, amazing prompter, whoever you are.  
> (P.S. How much is not too much angst...............)
> 
> It's also my first fic challenge and I really need to give a shout-out to all the amazing admins for putting together this noren fic fest, ugh, im ugly crying.
> 
> 🎶 Catching Feelings - Drax Project, SIX60

A hypothetical progress graph for the life of an average individual will hit a peak around thirty to forty years, supposedly when they achieve sufficient financial and emotional stability in their lives.

If Jeno had known he actually peaked at age twelve.

At the age of four to nine, he enjoyed considerable success as a child model for several cf deals; his mother and the aunties in the neighbourhood thought he would grow up to be a star, all of them praising his looks to the skies. By his tenth birthday, the aspiration seemed irrefutable. 

It wasn’t up to anyone’s control (or his for that matter) that providence chooses to serve their speciality, a hot bowl of ‘unfortunate development’ at age thirteen when his eyesight deteriorated. A condition so trivial and insignificant, but who would have thought, his chunky prescription glasses happened to catch the attention of the bigger kids who believe bullying a tradition that needs to be upheld?

Sadly, he found himself the butt of the joke of the class by the first week of middle school. The positive attention he’s used to receiving, so commending and flattering for his self-image has flipped over simply that it scarred him a great deal. To survive the puerile madness that was middle school, he secluded himself to stave off the harassment, preferring to stay in the background as much as possible. That helped gradually, though the taunts persisted till graduation.

The line on the graph gradually declined by his high school years. He got used to the nondescript effect and invisibility that comes with wearing those thick-rimmed glasses he once hated with a passion. With the introduction of PC bangs and computer games, his social life and conversational skills became more extraordinarily stunted.

By age nineteen his mother had already given up hope that her son could even remotely catch the eyes of scouts from entertainment companies. How could she desire for that, when her striking and adorable son of the past has diminished to become a perpetual hoodie-wearing, unruly and ragged preferring, game obsessed _nerd?_

Nevertheless, Jeno wasn’t a total failure like she originally perceived when he tossed a stack of documents under her nose, detailing that he won a spot in the prestigious Seoul University under the department of ‘ _Computer Sciences_ ’. Whatever that means.

She gazed ruefully at the numerous photo frames on the shelf, reminiscing. What a waste it was, her once-promising and brightest child…

She was shaken from her reverie when she heard a clearing of the throat. It was then that she realised Jeno has been following her gaze for some time. He paces restlessly by the door, speaking up several moments later. “Bye mum.” He bids farewell, for he has chosen to reside in the dormitories for the entire duration of his education.

But with his hesitancy, his face screwed up with deliberation, it revealed to her that he has something further to say, and her guess was right. The only thought in his head was, if he left without speaking his mind, he would have regretted and had never forgiven himself for his cowardice. There’s just something undaunting about leaving the nest that spiked a new drive of courage in him.

All those words he has kept hidden gushes out ultimately, and his eyes welled up, not from their farewell but the indignance and frustration he felt all these years. “You see mum, whenever I look at that shelf filled with all those kid photos of me, I hate it so much.”

In his nineteen years, he had never once directly confronted his mother, out of respect and filial piety. But not anymore he thinks, even as her features twisted in outrage, her arms crossed in surliness. He carried on nevertheless, fuelled by the suppressed emotions over his mother’s wishful desires all these years.

“Because I will never simply wake up one day and turn into the boy you imagined so desperately in your head. I grew up, mum. There’s really nothing you can do about it.”

—

**One year later.**

It’s hard to greet Mark wholeheartedly when he appears in the kitchen so cheerful and invigorated for his day. It’s even more irksome when the older boy has the leisure to prepare those obnoxious French-pressed coffee shit that he swears is worth waking up earlier every day for.

Did he also mention that his roommate has accomplished more than any student with his top grades, _seemingly_ perfect demeanour and exceptional athletics?

“Yo, morning.” Mark joins him at the countertop. Mark sets up the apparatus, pours hot water into the filter steadily, the effect causing Jeno to sink into a daze. 

“Played games through the night again?” Mark asks though the answer is pretty clear just by Jeno’s haggard appearance. 

Jeno makes a noncommittal grunt, spell broken. He bites into his slice of bread and drops his head low on the countertop, another hand holding on to his mug of instant coffee for dear life.

He peers up blearily when Mark pries his cup away from him, spluttering in disbelief when the older boy dumps the contents into the sink. The older pours fresh coffee into the mug and slides it back. Jeno peers into the black liquid and back at Mark who jerks his chin in invitation.

“That instant rubbish wouldn’t keep you awake for Prof Kim’s class later on. Take this instead.”

Jeno takes a long sip, throat almost burning, but he relishes in the kick of the bitterness, the caffeine rousingly surging in his veins. He lets out a long-drawled moan of contentment and Mark smirks, pleased. Damn, he can’t lie. It's good.

“Pretentious punk,” Jeno mutters, some healthy pink finally showing on his pallid cheeks.

Mark hollers out a laugh. “You’re welcome, asshole.”

-

A social inept like himself, thankfully, still has a few friends he can trust and lean on, even though they are a pesky bunch most of the time. 

So the story of how he got to room with one of the better-known seniors on campus is mostly a stroke of luck thrown in with a dose of incredulity. Well, it’s not like he actively tried to acquaint himself with Mark. He was looking for places with available rooms for rent on that online student's community portal, and Jeno merely contacted the first listing that appeared on the website. It was all by chance that he was the first person that contacted Mark on his offer— by ringing him up at 1 am. 

In all honesty, it truly went over his head that calling a stranger at such timing is usually considered as senseless behaviour. But remarkably Mark found that impressive, his tenacity commendable. And so they met the next day, and Jeno simply scored a room just like that. 

When he first moved in, his introversion wasn’t missed by Mark’s observant eyes. But Mark is always understanding enough not to overstep the boundaries and Jeno appreciates that of his character. His relaxed and undemanding demeanour was enough for Jeno to gradually open up as they hung out more often in the apartment too. 

But all along Mark’s apartment is suited for three individuals since it comes with three separate rooms. Four months after Jeno moved in he was introduced to Chenle, a Chinese foreign exchange student and Mark’s junior, and Jeno reckons the kid must have swallowed a loudhailer when he was young. While Mark is chatty he can be quiet when he wants to be, but Chenle only has two settings: loud, or ear-piercing loud. The younger barrages like a monsoon storm, cacophonous in appearance and conduct, every bit of his behaviour expressed in figurative exclamation marks.

Though they are such total opposites in terms of personality and discernible decibels, the most surprising aspect he discovered and acknowledged was Chenle’s exceptional prowess in computer games. He hates to admit, but the younger is infuriatingly more skilled than him when he has been gaming all these years. And with their matching competitive streaks, it meant regular nights to the wee hours, and soon enough they quickly warmed up to each other too.

Looking back, Jeno doesn't think he would ever mix well with them if they happened to meet in other social settings. It’s just— both appear to be incompatible with him at first glance. Mark, an intellect and jock, perfect all-rounder, and Chenle, brazen genius with the sharpest wit. They just don't seem to hang out with people like himself, and he’s self-aware really, he’s a nerd through and through. 

Albeit he’s talking about their descriptions and labels in the simplest of terms and definitions.

Back in middle and high school, the distinction of cliques was indisputable. With his withdrawn position there was the benefit of the gestalt view. He could see the hierarchy of social groups: the bullies, the populars, the smart alecs, the clowns— all adhering to the type and clique they feel strongly for. It was unnecessary conformist, but at that young age where everyone strives to fit in, would anyone risk speaking out to challenge the societal structure?

Making friends all along feels like a massive task for him, the thought of living with roommates felt even more arduous. But he’s sick of living in the shadows, and he slowly finds himself inclined on stepping out of his comfort zone and experiencing a normal, lively student life for once.

He wouldn’t lie; he was hopeful and expectant that university would be different, and with the way it has turned out, he’s truly grateful. Incredibly, they got along well since he’s heard stories of conflicts between unsuited roommates, thus, he’s content that he has two roommates-cum-close friends he trusts and likes wholeheartedly. He clearly must have spent all the luck in his life. 

—

When he says he’s ready to step out of his comfort zone he doesn’t mean at the expense of his grades though.

Because, why did Prof Kim think it's a good idea to award this semester’s credit based on a group project, even worse, a collaborative project between students of two _related_ majors? It’s already tiresome to work in a group, but to work with absolute strangers? A literal nightmare.

He searches the crowd of unfamiliar faces and stupid name badges, and the memories of his first day in middle school flood his mind again; _orientation day, bullies_ , _the taunts,_ and he pursed his lips in uneasiness. The number of people and the chatter is giving him a headache. Pushing up his glasses he resumes search for a boy— Jisung, junior—

But the boy found him first. “Jeno?” He saunters over leisurely.

Jeno glowers petulantly at the lack of honorifics. “Yah. I’m older than you.”

Jisung sighs long-sufferingly.

“Jeno hyung.” Jisung eventually adds, and Jeno nods his head, satisfied. His gaze drops to the skateboard wrapped in his arm, and the design on the deck catches his attention. It’s a complex artwork of what he thinks is a representation of the purgatory, the level of avarice to be precise, and the image of a squalid long-tongued creature licking the ground as it's crushed by stones is morbidly imposing.

He points at the skateboard, something interesting enough to start a conversation going. “It’s a drawing of hell— of avarice, isn’t it? It’s nice. Your work?”

Jisung’s brows shot up in surprise and he bobs his head. “Wow, you’re right. And no, it was my roommate who drew this. He’s in Fine Arts, and he’s super talented— Wait. Don’t tell him I said that though.”

Shrugging noncommittally at that, Jeno offers his palm in acknowledgement. “Nice to meet you, Jisung.”

Jisung darts down at his outstretched palm and smirks, an unidentified expression on his face that Jeno can’t decide whether it’s cordial or unfriendly. He gets his answer within seconds when Jisung forms a scissor with his hand, making the greeting into a sudden game of rock, paper, scissors.

Jeno blanches, mouth parted in shock. He just got duped.

Jisung chortles at his reaction and drags him out from the auditorium.

-

Luckily, they managed to score a table at a quiet corner in the library. They start to brainstorm, but Jisung’s so easily distracted that they barely get anything done on the project. Much was discussed about his life though, since the kid was curious and kept pestering him about it. An hour with the junior zaps away all the energy Jeno has, and frankly, this is as much conversation he can take a day. He cites a much-needed coffee break, escapes just before Jisung can conveniently call out his drink order.

The cafe’s slightly busy at three in the afternoon, and he waits for the call of his name in the small waiting crowd. Absentmindedly twirling a stray thread of his worn hoodie, he considers planning a trip downtown for clothes, since he’s one rip away from looking like a vagrant. He casually glances around for ideas, maybe he can get one of those pullovers that guy is wearing— or perhaps a denim jacket— since he doesn't have that kind of clothes in his wardrobe. His eyes strays and lands on a mop of vivid red hair, a daring choice that Jeno appreciates but will never have the guts to try. Another offhand glance of the stranger’s appearance comes with alarming results.

The man looks relatively boyish at first, but the neck and sleeve tattoos are alarming disparities that seized his attention right away. From the distance, it’s hard to discern the designs that swirl above the neckline of his black shirt, but he can at least make out images of a compass and flowers on his wrists as the man uses his phone. Every inch of the stranger’s ears are pierced, the silver shining under the cafe lighting. As the man tilts his head up the next instant, their eyes meet, and the immediate icy stare he receives from the stranger is unmistakably ominous. Jeno whips his head around hastily, but somehow, he thinks his alarmed response was enough indication for the stranger that he has in fact, been consciously staring far too long to be considered casual.

He thinks he hears the staff call his name, _great, just in time_ , and he scrambles to the counter for his drink, hand outstretched. “Jun?” The staff asks, and Jeno pales when he hears that unfamiliar name. It’s not his drink. He shakes his head and walks backwards, face reddening in mortification, but his back hits something, _someone_ , and he whirls around—

“Watch your step.” Jeno flinches at the voice and side-steps away immediately. It’s the red-haired stranger. He’s grateful that he’s taller, or he would appear to be cowering in fear. That would be so pathetic.

“I’m Jun.” The guy says to the staff and he picks his beverage from the counter, a word of gratitude expressed before he turns around. He pauses just before him— Jeno gulps, and the red-haired speaks up again after considering for a second.

“Haven’t you learnt that it’s rude to stare?” The stranger curtly comments. The appearance of the tattoos and piercings screams absolute trouble, the kind where he imagined the bullies of his past must have grown up into. Jeno’s mouth gapes open, shell-shocked, and the man pierces him with one last glare before he leaves the cafe.

—

“But as I said, that dude didn’t have to be so mean about it,” Jeno mutters, eyes in focus on the monitor. “On my left, 340. The one in ghillie,” He adds, fingers methodically smashing on the keyboard as he fights off another player.

“He’s good,” Chenle replies, fingers pausing on the mouse as he waits. A calculated aim, _fire_ , and ‘8th kill’ displays on his monitor. “But I’m better.”

“I gave you that kill.”

“Can’t hear you over the sound of my 9th kill.” Chenle skilfully wipes out another, face split into a triumphant grin before continuing the other conversation. “But you can’t blame him for calling you out, Jen. You were staring, and that’s weird.”

“I was getting inspiration for clothes!” Jeno whines and hits a key harder than necessary. “Everything about that hoodlum screams _fucking-look-at-me_ , but he’s being particular on who’s staring? I may look easy but I’m no pushover!”

“Hoodlum—” Chenle repeats, brows furrowed. “You only saw that dude once and already you think he’s a delinquent?”

“He has tattoos, piercings! And his hair—”

“What century are you living in?!” Chenle tuts, a disapproving look thrown in his direction. “Objectively speaking, you can’t criticize him even if he actually thinks you’re easy to bully, because you judged him based on his appearance as well. It goes both ways.”

Jeno wails frustratedly and rams the button in anger in a fit of pique, his avatar shooting rounds of empty shots at the virtual sky. Not enough to quell his anger, he throws a grenade at Chenle’s character. But Chenle’s reflexes are quicker, and his character escapes just in time before the grenade explodes.

“I know bitter pills are hard to swallow, hyung.” Chenle sagely says, voice breaking out in a snicker. 

Unlike the game, Chenle doesn't escape in time when Jeno hurls a pillow right smack onto his face.

Even if he recognises Chenle's arguments were reasonable, that there are some parts of his argument biased and discriminatory, he couldn't care less. Just imagining the _fun-sized,_ tattooed red-haired puts him in a bad mood. _Whatever_ , he huffs disgruntedly, wishing that he never sees him ever again. It's best to steer clear from such people. That guy spells trouble, spray-painted in big block letters on a mouldy brick wall right behind a dimly lit ghetto street. That’s how dangerous he is.

-

But his wishes are left unheard. Or perhaps some supernatural being caught it but still chose to pile shit on his life anyway. 

Because he would recognize the hair even from a mile away. 

The next thing he registered was the boy’s arms in a playful grip round— _surprise, surprise,_ Jisung’s neck, and he almost dropped his laptop. His heart races rapidly, mind in overdrive. He’s too close-by, he has to fucking scram immediately, oh, what a horrible, small world—

“Jeno hyung!” Jisung calls just as he makes a turnabout, and his hands involuntarily close into fists. He considers bolting into a run, steps already quickening. But Jisung appears briskly before his very eyes, courtesy of his skateboard. In one impressive motion, he kicks his board up and holds it in his arm. “Hey hyung, fancy seeing you here!”

Jeno musters up a smile. “Yes, nice to see you. I have to go— Er. Class. See you around.”

“But your class is this way.” Jisung points in the opposite direction.

_Ugh._

“Right.” Jeno croaks feebly.

“Come on, I wanna introduce you to my friends. They are nice, and they don’t bite—" He quirks the corner of his lips, seemingly in two minds. "-Mostly.” He giggles, obviously after some afterthought.

 _Ohhhhhh boy._ Jeno knows the exact reason for the lack of conviction in his tone. He already knows which one of his friends _does_ bite, he's already witnessed it. Resigned, he lets Jisung pulls him to the group, inhaling a huge gulp of air to settle his nerves. Sure, he was intimidated, and after complaining about the incident to Mark and Chenle (even if they weren’t exactly sympathetic) for a full week a new-found fearlessness manifested in him, mostly just to mend his ego after he got admonished by an absolute stranger. The nerve of him.

He summons all the courage, fixating on his previous outrage and indignation, and that quells down the edge considerably.

When he nears the bench, he’s looking at mostly unfamiliar faces. Except the red-haired, who in turn gazes at him with a knowing expression on his face. _Fuck, he remembers me._

“Hey guys, this is Jeno. He is my teammate for that collaborative project I told you guys about. And this is Jaemin, Donghyuck, and Renjun.” He gestures accordingly, and Jeno stiffly nods in greeting. “Jeno’s a freshman too!”

So that hoodlum's called Renjun. His jaw clenches just slightly.

And alright, Jeno has to admit, he’s in awe. Because, _wow_ , what a motley group they are. They resemble characters from those corny romance manhwas the girls back in high school like to read. The guy named Jaemin looks like he came out of a fashion magazine; then there is Donghyuck, decked out in a chic black and leather combo. The most arresting of the lot still has to be Renjun, he thinks. The guy is wearing a simple oversized sweater today, and the tattoos on his neck are in full display. It is a complex composition of flowers and thorny branches winding uniformly inwards from both clavicles, an intricate design of a wasp inked right in the middle of his jugular.

Tattoos are less frowned upon now, but to be heavily tattooed like him in Jeno’s opinion is pretty ballsy. It’s akin to a big ‘fuck you’ to society and its rigid social norms. Right on cue, Renjun cockily levelled his gaze, his Adam’s apple bobbing up in his throat. Jeno lowers his gaze right away. _Damn_ , he’s caught staring again.

His social skills have always been stagnant, beginner level at best, never advancing to a higher level because there wasn’t _any_ need to socialize. Presently he can only stand mutely, the silence increasingly awkward, but he has already missed the timing for a casual ‘hi’. God, this is painful.

Someone saves the day— Donghyuck, he remembers, speaking up on behalf of the group. “Sorry about Jisung, he must have dragged you here when you must be running late for your class.”

Jisung abruptly clasps his hands in realization and motions his skateboard excitedly. “Oh Renjun hyung, he liked the art you drew for my board, he even guessed the theme correctly. Pretty cool huh!”

He should have realised that the tattoos are of the same illustrative style as Jisung’s skateboard. _Ahhh_ , so not only is Renjun proficient at snark he’s also maybe just a tiny bit talented in the arts.

“Oh really?” Renjun pipes, brows raised. “How did you guess it?”

The entire group’s attention is now back on him, and he tries to look as disinterested as possible, but he’s in denial if he doesn’t feel his heart pumping fiercely through his ribs. He coughs awkwardly and fixates on a flower bush just behind the redhead. “Well, at first glance it looks like Dante's version of purgatory because of the different levels in the background. But— I guess you put your spin on it? It’s not exactly the punishment in Dante’s text.”

For the first time he sees Renjun’s lips curved up into a smile, and something akin to pride blooms within him as he exhales out a shaky breath. In all honesty, he wasn’t entirely familiar with the subject though. Should he have explained that he read about it in a comic?

“I did. The drawing is a bit of a proposition. Well, you see, I believe it's a more fitting punishment for evil-doers, as it’s more… satirically tormenting.” Renjun grimly answers, his reply sounding extremely foreboding for some reason.

Jeno sucks in a startled breath as Jisung and Donghyuck groans in chorus. “Stop scaring him, will you? His eyes are about to pop out.”

Renjun rolls his eyes, scowling as he fiddles with the piercing on his lower lip.

“Ignore him. He’s only like this around people he’s unfamiliar with. Give him some time.” The guy— Jaemin— whispers right beside him. Too close for comfort, Jeno flinches and puts some distance between them.

“Right…” Jeno mumbles, his dull-witted brain never realising what Jaemin truly meant until much later. 

-

Jeno doesn’t understand at what point he has agreed to this arrangement, that is, Jisung’s friends taking their turns to join in for their regular project meetings. First, it was Donghyuck; who blatantly invited himself with no explanation given, making the whole meetup less about the project but more of getting acquainted with Jeno, supposedly hearing he is Mark’s roommate from Jisung, the blabbermouth.

Then it’s Jaemin’s turn, whose presence is even more distracting since the guy attracts a line of infatuated girls fawning over him anywhere he goes. His attractive looks and fashionable style turns heads, and for that, he’s quite a popular figure in school. Jeno suspects Jaemin has something to say whenever he catches him staring at that stain on his hoodie that couldn’t be removed no matter how many times he washes it. He has given up all hope, accepting that the hoodie now comes with a bonus blotch. 

On these two separate occasions, he realized it’s in Jisung, Donghyuck, and Jaemin nature to blab, them utterly unabashed and unblushingly so as they revealed much about themselves and the group. By the end of the week he has learned, in summary: 

1\. Jisung and Renjun go back as neighbours when Renjun’s family moved into their neighbourhood.

2\. All of them have been friends since middle school, and Jeno finds himself privately envious of their long-enduring friendship.

3\. Rather than opting for the typical STEM route, they have chosen a path outside the mainstream. Donghyuck in Music Studies, Jaemin in Fashion, and Renjun in Fine Arts. 

4\. Donghyuck and Jaemin were fuck buddies until they amicably called it quits last year. He _really_ didn’t ask for that information.

5\. “Of course we’re _straight_ , Jeno. We’re art majors, isn’t that telling?” Donghyuck sarcastically retorts. “No really, we’re all gay. Just to make sure you’re clear.”

6\. “I’m bi though.” Jisung casually amends a beat later. 

7\. Through a passing remark, the group went through what they call ‘the dark age’, Renjun’s the very centre of it. They bluntly evaded the topic and subsequently made no mention after that.

—

Amazingly, they made much more progress in three hours than they have the entire week without the distracting presences of Donghyuck or Jaemin. Jeno stretches his arms wearily and breaks into an involuntary yawn. He checks the handful of papers that Jisung has drawn up, the content mostly preliminary drawings on the concept and gameplay, but it already looks pretty appealing to him. And that is saying something when he has played all kinds of computer games all these years.

He feels a phone vibration just then, coming from somewhere on the table. It must belong to Jisung since his phone is in his pocket. He pats around the untidy papers strewn all over the table for the device and finally finds it squashed between Jisung’s books. The screen display lights up, and to his dismay, it’s Renjun. He gulps nervously, torn between rustling Jisung awake or answering. But hearing the snores coming from the kid, he is already well into his nap. Breaking out a sigh, he chooses the latter.

“Hi?”

There’s the distinct sound of static and several moments later Renjun’s voice surfaces from the receiver. “You’re… Jeno?”

“Yes, Jisung’s taking a nap, and I thought I should help answer his call… see if something urgent has cropped up.”

“Erm, It’s not that urgent.” He mutters. “Just— Can you ask if he wants dinner? I’m getting groceries and I need to know if he’s eating in or not.” 

“You cook?” He blurts out, and he slaps a palm over his mouth in mortification immediately. 

_For god's sake, whatever happened to his brain-to-mouth filter???_

There’s a beat of silence until Renjun inflects sneeringly. “Why are you so surprised over the fact that I can cook?”

“N—NO, let me explain! I’m sorry, I don’t mean to doubt you. I just… didn’t expect you could, and I swear it’s not personal— I mean, there’s a reason why the ramen in the convenience store down the block always gets sold out. It’s not surprising that students like us can’t cook. I’m one of them too!”

There's also an underlying issue of Renjun looking like _himself,_ and the mental picture of him bustling in the kitchen with an apron on and spatula in his hand is completely unfathomable in Jeno's mind. But needless to say, he has the decency to keep that to himself.

“Right.” Renjun drawls out sceptically. 

“I swear. Sorry again.” Jeno mumbles as he chews on his bottom lip agitatedly. The silence is overwhelmingly disquieting. He pipes in quickly, brain buzzing on mitigating the situation. “So. Erm. Give me a sec, I’m waking Jisung up now—”

“Don’t bother,” Renjun says, and Jeno halts, his outstretched arm at a standstill.

“Join us for dinner later. I’ll have you know that I make a mean pot of soybean paste stew.”

-

“This is new.” Donghyuck grins, head sweeping round in acknowledgement of the present company before him. “Renjun never invites anyone over to our place.”

“He’s _only_ invited so that he can see for himself how well I can cook. He thought I couldn’t, and that hurt my pride for obvious reasons.” Renjun deadpans before casting a look of displeasure.

Jeno chokes on a mouthful in an immediate reaction, bits of rice going into the wrong pipe. Jisung lends a helping hand and slaps his back repetitively. “I didn’t mean it that way!” Jeno squeals out after his coughing clears.

“Oh boy,” Donghyuck dramatically rises from his seat. “Never doubt Injun’s cooking abilities. You have no idea how fortunate we are to be in his good graces. Look at this,” He strokes his round abdomen fondly. “My food baby.”

“Sit down hyung. God, you’re so weird.” Jisung scrunches his nose, and Donghyuck settles back, not forgetting to flip him the finger sweetly.

“Don’t worry, Jeno. He clearly doesn’t think you were being offensive. Right?” Donghyuck glares threateningly at Renjun.

Renjun does not comment, merely sticking his tongue out as he continues eating.

“Injun's nicer than he likes to project. He’s always channelling this broody emo shit, but don’t be fooled. Have you heard of anyone crying from cartoons?” Jaemin chimes helpfully.

“Shut your face!” Renjun yells, cheeks reddening.

Jaemin grins noncommittally and piles Jeno’s bowl with more food, even as he tries to turn him down with a hurried wave of his hands. “Oh come on, don’t be shy. Don’t just eat plain rice!”

By nature, Jeno's really just the biggest sap there is, more than he would like to admit. Their hospitality is heartwarming, and it’s weird how the three— four if he counts Renjun— could so earnestly welcome him into their lives. And he ought to make an honourable mention to the food in front of him. The authentic, piping hot, home-cooked fare he has missed a great deal. 

Ever since the falling-out with his mother, he has barely been back home to visit. It was apparent that she’s perfectly content to live in the illusions of the past, and so he finds it more enjoyable to stay in the dorms even during school vacations because there’s just nothing to look forward to in the house anymore.

The fermented aroma of the _doenjang_ is so comforting when he takes a whiff of his bowl of soybean paste stew. He slurps up a mouthful, the deep and rich flavour of the broth creeping over his taste buds and down his throat. The initial saltiness gives way to the sweetness of the onions that lingers tastefully in his mouth. 

Wow, it is some good soup.

One glance at the cook and his brows knits up, increasingly feeling remorseful for his lack of tact on the phone. “Everything is delicious, you are a really good cook.” Jeno tries to convey as much sincerity he can in his tone. “I’m sorry again. For doubting you.”

“Don’t apologise,” Renjun comments, and that takes Jeno and the rest by surprise. Any remaining animosity seeps away from his mind the very instant, and he reciprocates with a friendly smile. Grinning, Renjun gestures at the table in wide circles with his chopsticks, and nothing prepares him for what Renjun has to say next.

“Because you’re doing the dishes later.”

-

Despite the rest chastising Renjun, they didn’t particularly volunteer to help with the dishes. It makes no difference, regardless of Renjun’s demand, Jeno would have offered anyway. 

“You should have left the washing for the freeloaders.” Renjun appears unexpectedly in the kitchen. He nudges with a tilt of his head to the direction of the living room, where the rest of them are watching the latest drama, their attention glued on the TV. He wordlessly grabs the dish towel and starts to help him with the dishes.

It’s rather perplexing, the dynamic between them since they have started on the wrong foot. It seems Renjun has never mentioned their eventful first encounter to the others, judging by the group’s unchanging cordiality towards him. Frankly, Renjun’s enigmatic behaviour is causing him some undue turmoil, he very much prefers a frank discussion than this air of ambiguity between them. “That time in the cafe,” Jeno begins bravely, eyes deliberately trained on the sink. “I know I was rude to stare. But I swear, I was just looking around for ideas— on clothes. It sounds stupid, I know. And then I saw you— your tattoos, and I couldn’t help but get taken aback. That’s purely it.”

Renjun snorts, attention still on the plates. “It isn’t a big deal, Jeno. Do you think you’re the first person to find my appearance surprising? I have, literally, fuck tons of tattoos. People are bound to stare.”

Jeno cautiously passes a plate over and Renjun takes it with a long sigh. “The thing is, I was having a bad day, and then there you were, this geeky— Sorry.” Renjun sheepishly breaks off. “But you were staring, and I was beyond annoyed, so I just shot my mouth off.”

Jeno shrugs. “It’s fine. I thought you were a hoodlum too. I guess we’re even.”

Renjun snorts and places the plate neatly on the dish stand. “A hoodlum and a nerd huh.” He says body tilted to face Jeno in consideration. “Such cliches.”

“A cliche is still somewhat true.”

Renjun raises an eyebrow, contemplative. “But here we are. Having a meal, washing plates, and making small talk like we’re old friends. Cliches are stupid. You will be happier in life to ignore all that, trust me.”

Jeno inhales in a breath. Disbelief is written all over his face as his mind concentrates only on a single word. 

“F—Friends?” 

Renjun’s eyes narrowed. “It was just a figure of speech, dude. Why? Is being friends with us beneath you?”

Jeno shakes his head violently, his palms up in submission. “NO! I am just shocked. And touched— that you, no, all of you guys want to be friends. We barely even know each other!”

“I don’t need to know everything about you and then decide if I wanna be friends with you.” Renjun retorts incredulously and tosses the dishtowel back onto the counter.

“You’re one interesting person, Lee Jeno,” Renjun mutters, lips curving up.

Jeno gapes, spellbound. The easy smile Renjun throws him as he takes his leave reveals a silver crescent stud beneath his bottom lip, the silver daintily shimmering as it catches the light, the image unconsciously running in his head the whole night.

—

Jeno’s life in university has changed drastically. A _beneficial_ drastic, he would amend. His solitary way of living consists of school, dorm, the track, rinse and repeat. This has improved to include some healthy social interaction with the additional gatherings at Jisung’s place, mostly due to their group project.

Subsequently, the fateful ‘Meet the ~~Boy~~ Friends’ occurred, an impromptu first meeting involving, well, both of the groups. 

How did it all happen?

Well, it all began with a new development. During the time leading to the first meeting, Mark and Chenle would return from their classes in the evenings to find that Jeno, amazingly, was still not back home. The image of Jeno already huddled in his room whenever they’re back was customary, routine even, and hence his increasing absences was even more perceptible. Next, odd items started to appear in his room. New clothes. Cologne. Cooking books. 

Oh, they were such telling signs. But they reserved their judgement in any case. They didn’t want to get all weird around him. 

The defining moment in Chenle’s opinion was when Jeno cancelled their usual Saturday night game routine, only returning much later, mysteriously high-spirited. They finally got a hold of him that night, and Jeno was shoved unceremoniously on the sofa, both of them sandwiching him on his sides with impressive smug expressions.

“Jeno,” Mark started earnestly with his hands intertwined in his, and Jeno had a funny feeling that whatever _this_ was, it was going to get pretty excruciating.

“Do you have something you want to tell us?”

Jeno whipped his head around at the two, unnerved. “No… why?”

“If you found someone, you can tell us. You can even bring _her_ — or _him_ back, and we promise we wouldn’t be weird.” Mark beamed. “We’re just so happy for you. Is it still in the early stages?”

Jeno gaped blankly. “What are you even talking about!”

“Let me rephrase. We are asking if you finally got laid.”

At Chenle’s insinuation, a flush of embarrassment rises over his neck and ears. “Aww, Jen is blushing.” Mark cooed. “Don’t be shy. Who’s that lover of yours?”

“I—I’m not, fuck, really, did you guys think… I have someone? Like I fell in love and got attached, that kind of stuff?” Jeno whipped his head up and guffawed dismissively. “I’m not. I swear.”

“But what are all these—” Chenle dashed into Jeno’s room for a full minute before emerging with his _suspicious_ belongings and releasing them haphazardly onto the couch. “Why do you even have this book… The Joy of Cooking? You don’t even fucking cook!”

“Shut up!” Jeno wrestled the book back, face aflame. “You guys are way overthinking this. It’s just Renjun who lent me the book. If it helps, he thinks I suck at it too!”

“RENJUN.” They parroted, faces split broadly in unison. “Is he your significant other?”

It’s a matter of time that he's going to lose his sanity with the topic of their conversation. In this house, he’s the only one left with some semblance of rationality since his shitty friends have already flushed them down the toilet, both relentless in trying to make his life a living hell. “HE IS JUST A FRIEND.” Jeno moaned distressingly. "He's Jisung's—"

“But what are these? Clothes that aren’t either hoodies or tee shirts? Who else are you trying to impress?”

But then again, it’s also likely he was a massive jerk in his past life if he has to live with these two dumbasses in this present life. 

“Listen up. Remember Jisung, the junior that I’m working on this project with? Get this— Renjun, Donghyuck, and Jaemin are his best friends and roommates. And Jaemin, he majors in fashion alright, and he has this brimming wardrobe, so he threw these at me when I visited their dorm the other day—”

“You’re engaged in polyamory?" Mark whistled out of the blue. “Wow, didn't know you had it in you.”

“For gods’ sake Mark fucking Lee, how the fuck did you even come to that conclusion?” Jeno yelled frustratedly into his hands, face crimsoned in a fit of temper. For supposedly intelligent academics, they have definitely crossed moronic on the stupidity scale.

“Fine fine,” Chenle piped. “Introduce us to your boyfriends— I mean friends.” Mark snickered in the background, and Jeno threw a swift punch on Mark’s shoulder. “We can be the judge of that.”

“You guys are batshit crazy. No way.”

Chenle smirked deviously and placed a hand on his shoulder. _Oh god_ , it’s Chenle’s patent look of vile mischief, a look he has reluctantly been subjected to far too many times to count. “But Jeno, hyung, you wouldn’t want to be known in the school as a philanderer, would you? Although it’s a huge upgrade from being a nerd, that’s for sure.”

“Are you hearing this thinly-veiled threat?” He threw the question to Mark. “He’s your junior. Do something!”

Mark rubbed the sore spot on his shoulder gingerly and shrugged. “But… he’s also the only junior I have no power of.” Chenle giggled, arms haughtily crossed to bring the point across.

“You know what?” Jeno snapped, calling it a day. “I’m setting up a meeting with them. Congrats fuckers, you’re both invited.”

-

Jeno knew they usually frequented the skatepark a street away from campus in between the long breaks of classes. He sent Jisung a quick text that his friends are coming with, and he replied with a justifiable 😯

The trepidation was palpable as they approached. Jeno’s mind whirled with all kinds of scenarios how it could all go negatively; his friends had absolutely no qualms embarrassing the hell out of him in front of these... _cooler_ kids. Because let’s face it, the conventional intellectuals can be dull and monotonous compared to, say, the edgier and artistically inclined.

The purpose of ‘Meet the ~~Boy~~ Friends’ meeting was to convince Mark and Chenle that his love life is far from sensational. This was what they saw: a group immersed in conversation. No, scratch that, an _attractive_ group immersed in conversation. His best friends slash roommates merely examined the other group for less than a minute and decided, mind-bogglingly and anticlimactically, there was indeed nothing more than platonic between them.

“That’s it? You guys were all up in my face the past few days and now you’re convinced? What the flying fuck.” Jeno shrieked and stamped his feet in anger. 

“You forgot to mention they are hot, Jen. It makes all the difference.” Chenle explained nonchalantly.

Mark hummed a tune of agreement, and Jeno felt his eyes rolled to the back of his skull. “FYI, I have been in commercials. I have what we call a face for TV alright.” 

“Sure, without those ancient-looking glasses you’re still at best… nerd-hot. But for them,” Chenle gushed appreciatively. “They are hot _multiplied by_ hot. And it would be a miracle if any of them find you remotely attractive. No offence.” 

“You don’t have to put down my looks to get your point across, thank you very much.” Jeno seethed. “Ugh. I wish this meetup wasn’t for such a stupid reason.”

Mark dismissed with a shake of his head. “Rubbish. Lovers or not, we would still be very interested in your social life, Jeno. This is great! How many times have you introduced friends of your own? Zilch, nada!”

“Not when I have to introduce both of you with all the moronic ideas.” Jeno huffed. He hasn’t even finished and Mark has already gone ahead and introduced himself, his trademark cordialities and polite mannerisms switched on with practised ease. He rolled his eyes at that.

“Jen—”

“Nuh-uh. I’m ignoring you because I’m still pissed off at both of you.”

To his credit, Chenle looked a mixture of chastised and remorseful.

“Oh come on, hyung. I’m sorry. We just care about you! There are lots of love scams recently, we're just worried you might get cheated!”

“Cut the bullshit. You guys are only nosey for gossip."

"Hyungggggg."

"It's funny how you always conveniently recall that I’m older only when you’re apologetic or when you need my help for something,” Jeno grumbled.

Chenle giggled and nudged his chin toward a vague direction. “This time around, it’s both.”

Jeno begrudgingly followed his vision. 

“Who’s that boy over there?”

He pettily ignored his question, fully intended to stare at the dirt on his sneakers. _Fascinating._

“Hyunggggg.” Chenle shook Jeno violently, the force causing his glasses to go askew.

“Go away.” He swatted him when he made those disgusting pouty faces. 

“Tell meeeeeeee. Pleaseeeeeee—”

“God, fine. He’s Jisung, my projectm—”

“Hi, I’m Chenle!” Chenle dashed past him, palm formally outstretched towards Jisung immediately.

_What a brat._

Such social butterflies, it's really a wonder how they are friends. His tired gaze wanders, meeting Renjun's in the middle, his lips quirked partly in curiosity and amusement of the whole scene. Jeno joined him on the bench, an apologetic grimace painted on his face. “So, these are my friends.” He flourished his hand offhandedly. “They wanted to meet all of you. Since it’s new to them that I’m hanging out with other people… for once.”

Something about the delivery of the last sentence made his life sound even more tragic than usual.

“I just thought today will be a good day to… get acquainted.” He amended hastily.

Renjun appeared to be content with mulling in silence— which inadvertently caused Jeno to fluster as he waited for a reply— and he spoke eventually.

“Somehow, I have the weirdest feeling this will not be the last I will be seeing them.”

Jeno gazed at the two groups immersed in their discussion. Boisterous laughter ensued, and he gulped distressingly at the increasing possibility of a bigger group of people wreaking havoc in his quiet life.

 _Shit_. It’s looking more and more like a plausible reality.

—

**One month later.**

A much-needed toilet run causes Renjun to stir awake from slumber at… three-thirty two in the morning. He sets his phone back on the bedside table and yawns groggily. On the side of the room, Donghyuck is mumbling incoherently in his sleep, and out of playful spite, Renjun tosses a pillow on his face to cover the noise. The somniloquy promptly stops.

Simpering, he sleepily pads out of his room, but the viridescent light from the dining area catches him by surprise. The image of Jeno still working at the dining table comes into view, the sounds of his fingers tapping away on the keyboard breaking the silence of the night. “You’re still here?” Renjun mutters out.

Jeno’s body jerks in surprise at the unexpected voice.

“Renjun?”

Renjun paces over and peers at the laptop to discover complex lines of code running quickly across the screen, the multicoloured script awfully striking under the dim light. “How long have you been working in the dark?” Renjun rubs his eyes uncomfortably, and he reaches out for the switch. The room is flooded with light immediately, and Renjun spots Jisung at the other side of the table, snoring away without a care in the world. "Why is he loafing around?" He throws Jeno an exasperated question. “Park Jisung. Lazy ass. Wake up.” He prods at the boy, but Jeno touches his wrist lightly to stop him. “Let him sleep, he’s tired. I’m just about done.”

Renjun purses his lips but he yields in the end. “Toilet break. Be right back.”

Jeno grins and beckons him to run along.

Jeno isn’t in his seat when Renjun comes out of the bathroom. He spots him at the terrace instead, arms extended upwards as he stretches his limbs tiredly. Renjun quickly pops in the kitchen to fill up a glass of water, and he offers it to Jeno when he joins him.

“Thanks.” Jeno beams gratefully, and he takes a long sip.

“You shouldn’t have stopped me from waking Jisung up. He usually turns in late in the morning anyway. He’s just taking advantage of you.”

“He’s done his part, it’s all coding work from here on anyway.” Jeno chuckles under his breath. “Submission’s this Friday, so it’s quite a mad rush to get it done. I’m sorry for inconveniencing you guys though… even being here at this timing. Did I wake you up?”

Renjun shakes his head and peers out of the window. “We sleep like logs. Don’t worry about it.” Something comes to his mind, and Renjun whips his head around to point at his laptop, an open look of disdain etched on his features. “I pity your eyes though. Those gibberish things you’re working on, and the god-awful RGB colours— eew, no.”

Jeno’s eyes widened in shock at his comment. “Coding is not rubbish! It has its unique syntax and form, there are rules to every piece of code. There’s so much possibility with coding, so much yet unwritten—”

“Oh, god. All this nerd talk at this timing? Spare me.” Renjun cuts off with a dismissive yawn. Jeno sighs and can only sulk pitifully into his glass of water. 

Renjun’s brows crease in concern; Jeno must be lacking sleep if he could even see the dark circles under his eyes in the dim lighting. He nudges Jeno, pointing at the couch in the living room. “You should take some rest. The couch is yours if you need a shut-eye.”

“I guess I will take your offer,” Jeno breaks halfway, caught in a yawn. “Don’t wanna walk around campus in the morning looking half-dead…”

“Great.” Renjun nods, agreeing, his right palm outstretched in waiting. Jeno looked quizzically at his hand and back to stare into his eyes, a dumbfounded expression formed on his features. 

Somehow, the fatigue accumulated these past few days has alleviated with just a simple supportive gesture. Heart swelling, Jeno lays a tentative hand into Renjun’s own and squeezes lightly, thankful for his comforting company. 

Renjun cracks up, lips splitting into the most incredulous laugh. “This is all rather touching. But the glass, Jeno.”

CRAP.

Oh, the fucking horror. Unbridled panic courses through his body and he drop their clasped hand right away. “Right.” Jeno returns the glass into Renjun’s hand, painfully enduring the other’s gleeful snickers, his face burning up with every passing second. Renjun clears his throat and pats him gingerly on his shoulder, leaving the balcony for Jeno to agonize in his own mortifying predicament.

—

He’s acutely aware that Donghyuck is up to no good. 

Though to his credit, it’s been a while since he's seen this version of Donghyuck.

“Aren’t we just going for dinner?” Renjun questions from the comfort of his bed when Donghyuck appeared in their room with the _full deal_. 

The full deal consists of _‘my eyeliner isn’t the only thing I can line tightly’_ drawn on his lids, a thoughtful _'brush of pearly-white highlighter for the cum-ination’,_ topped lastly with _‘a strawberry flavoured gloss that tastes oh so fingerin lickin’ good.’_

Essentially that means Donghyuck is ready to fuck or get fucked.

Always having a flair for the dramatic, Donghyuck twirls lightly on his feet, the pervading scent of his perfume causing Renjun to crinkle his nose pointedly. “How do I look?” Donghyuck demands.

“You look positively horny.”

Donghyuck bursts out laughing and views his reflection in the full-length mirror shamelessly. “Well, it’s been a long while we're going to town for dinner, I should spend more time on the works, shouldn't I? But... do you think it’s too much though?”

“Depends on who you’re eyeing on.”

Donghyuck stares, astonished. “Of course it’s Mark? Haven’t I been obvious enough?”

Renjun languidly toys with the stud on his bottom lip and snickers. “Oh Hyukkie, if following Mark around like a lap dog for the past month constitutes flirting, you have definitely lost your touch.”

Donghyuck bristles, peeved, hands propped on his hips at the dig. The maniacal glint in his irises is a definite show of challenge. “Oh Injunnie,” He mimics sneeringly. “The best has yet to come.”

-

Right now, Renjun wished he had taken Jisung’s idea of a chick flicks night. After all, it’s one of their guilty pleasures that began from that awkward stage of pubescence. When he hears that Chenle has taken up Jisung’s offer, choosing to hang out together in their dorm with cheap Chinese takeout and _Clueless_ instead of going to dinner with them, he feels weirdly disgruntled for some reason. It’s like he’s been replaced by that new, louder, and annoying kid. 

Though he has Donghyuck to thank for shelving his thoughts about this matter for another day. Because there’s just something remarkable about his ability to transform a simple dinner affair into an excruciating and nausea-inducing ordeal. Renjun’s carbonara pasta suddenly feels more surfeiting with every gag-inducing behaviour Donghyuck comes up with.

For the uninitiated, it must look extremely horrifying.

“What is he doing?” Jeno mutters under his breath, stupefied by the scene before him.

Renjun sighs. “Donghyuck is making a move on Mark.” 

Across them, Mark guffaws at something hilarious and Donghyuck laughs along, his hands clapping delightfully on Mark’s thighs. “Oh my god Mark, you’re so funny!!”

The hands stay there.

Renjun narrows his eyes as Donghyuck glances over triumphantly, the little rise in the corner of his lips betraying the real intention of the gesture.

“M—Mark?” Jeno splutters softly. “Donghyuck likes Mark?”

“Unfortunately, Donghyuck has the weirdest attraction for people with the brains,” Renjun whispers solemnly, index pointing twice at his temple. “It’s because he’s a dumbass, naturally, he gravitates to people smarter than him. His choice was probably between Mark and you. Congrats, you got away.”

Jeno’s mouth forms an enlightened ‘o’, a snicker escaping after several beats. “I guess I have Mark to thank.”

The dinner then escalated into an impromptu weekday visit to Sicheng’s bar, courtesy of Donghyuck of course. Fortunately, they score not only a private booth but unlimited drinks as well, this time _very much_ courtesy of Sicheng and his bartender boyfriend, Yuta, so Renjun can’t complain too much.

The crowd in the bar today is older, collared workers for the most part.

The others got to know Sicheng through Renjun, the guy the closest thing to an older brother he could ever have. Both of them have very similar experiences; their families relocated to Seoul when they were young, but their cultural upbringing at home is still staunchly Chinese. It was difficult at the start when they had to navigate a new city and learn a new language. Naturally, they became inseparable, brought on by their reliance on each other. Their brotherly relationship endured even after they graduated language school and continued on their separate paths.

Though the very basis of their relationship is built on an adequate amount of tough love and wholesome levels of well-meaning snark.

“Who are the new kids?” Sicheng curiously asks as he polishes the glasses behind the bar counter.

Renjun glances back at the booth. “Jeno’s in glasses and Mark’s the one trapped in Hyuk’s clutches.”

“They look like kids that your mum will be proud of if you bring them home.” Yuta jests, deft hands rattling the shaker. In one quick motion, he whips the shaker up in the air, grabbing it as he twirls around in a dramatic movement. He pours the concoction into an empty glass, the gold liquid glistening under the gleam of the spotlights. 

“Oh god, Yuta hyung. It’s always the same old trick.”

“But you still like it anyway.” Yuta winks. “Daiquiri for Sicheng’s favourite kid. I added something extra.”

“I’ve never said he’s my favourite.” Sicheng mock affronts, just as Renjun cries out an ‘Eew.”

Yuta hums placatingly, a scoffing expression thrown in response. _Sure, Jan._

“It’s just pure rum.” He complains after Yuta moves to the other end of the counter to take new orders. “Yuta needs to know sometimes I just want a nice-tasting drink, instead he’s just piling the alcohol on me,” Renjun winces at the alcohol burning in his throat, and Sicheng chuckles. 

“Well, you didn’t care whether the drinks were nice tasting two years ago.” Sicheng’s lip twitches.

Renjun glares petulantly. “That was already in the past.”

“So do you two still keep in touch?” Sicheng’s orbs glimmer with curiosity.

“What are you guys talking about?” Jaemin cheerily cuts in the conversation with Jeno in tow. Renjun frowns, a threatening glare thrown at Sicheng. _Don’t._

Sicheng smiles cloyingly, compiles and changes the topic with the arrival of the newcomers. “Jeno, right? Are you majoring in the arts just like them?”

“Hi! And no, I’m a Computer Science major.”

The bemused look crosses Sicheng’s face in a quick instant.

“Computer Science…” Sicheng mulls, face slack in thought. “Aren’t you charming looking for a nerd then.”

Bashful, Jeno turns red with embarrassment. He chokes out a laugh. “I—I don’t think so...”

Sicheng beckons for him to move closer to the counter and Jeno complies. The older pries away the thick-framed glasses on Jeno’s nose and haphazardly wets his hands with water, quick hands working on Jeno’s long fringe so that it’s styled up to the side. He licks the underside of his hand and presses his palm on his hair as a finishing touch.

“Gross!” Renjun yells, and Jaemin merely snickers.

“See? Much better.” Sicheng comments, mouth curved up in a sinister smirk. “On second look, hey Injun. I think he looks way better than that— what's his name? Yukh—”

“Just. fucking. drop. it.” Renjun snares, his canine teeth showing.

Confused and blind without his glasses, Jeno squints at them in slight concern.

In contrast, it doesn’t take Jaemin too long to notice that it’s better to steer clear from these two for now, since the topic now at hand is regarding… _Renjun’s ex._ And it just so happens that Sicheng is the only person impervious to Renjun’s anger. That isn’t great considering they can bicker about anything for hours, both sides too headstrong to relent.

“Right. Shall we dance, Jeno? I suddenly feel like dancing.”

Jeno blinks repeatedly. “I don’t think this is a good idea— I have really bad eyesight, and I don’t know how to dance—”

“Nonsense!” Jaemin bellows, already tugging Jeno along, pocketing Jeno's glasses when Sicheng thoughtfully passes it over. “Spend just ten minutes with me and you will learn how to dance. Let’s go!”

When both of them are out of earshot, Renjun pierces Sicheng with the fiercest glare, anger boiling over his mien. He grabs a fistful of popcorn from the bowl and throws it with wilful malice, the bits of popcorn raining down on Sicheng and the counter. “Asshole!” Sicheng cries, dusting the crumbs away from his uniform. “You fucking stay till closing to clean this!”

“What are you playing at? Jeno is a friend!”

“A friend that can always be something more if you stop acting like a prude and have SOME FUN. Look at Donghyuck for example!” He points to the booth and Renjun whips around. 

Oh god. Donghyuck is sticking his tongue in Mark’s mouth. 

Witnessing Donghyuck in sordid action was a mistake. He turns around in aghast, thumping his head repeatedly to get rid of the image. “But his case is different! He has taken a liking to Mark. What you’re essentially suggesting is that I whore myself and engage in flings! What kind of advice is that?”

“I'm only suggesting that you live a little. The breakup was almost two years ago. There are so many people out there if you give them the chance. How is cooping in your room or the studio moving on?”

“I don’t need to be in a relationship to get over a previous relationship, okay? That is fucked up on so many levels if you actually think with your brain instead of your fucking dick.” Renjun argues, heat rising his cheeks. 

“As a matter of fact, I do think you need to let your dick do the thinking sometimes,” Sicheng insists. “Some healthy sexual activity will do good for your mental health. Look at your eye bags. Have you ever been sleeping well?

“For the record, I sleep so fucking well at night. The eye bags have always been there, asshole.” Renjun snaps defensively. 

Regardless of his annoyance of the topic, he knows Sicheng means well, even if his advice can be absurd at times. He curbs his tone and holds Sicheng’s hand in his just to make sure he understands he’s being truthful about this. “Seriously, I’ve moved on. What else do you want me to say so you can be convinced?”

Sicheng’s persistence slackens, his expression changed into one of inquisitive concern. “Then when will you, I don’t know, be ready?”

Renjun sighs outwardly and gulps his drink in one go, grimacing at the aftertaste. “I’m happy with the status quo, and I enjoy being single. That’s all I have to say.”

Sicheng tilts his head for a final examination, doubt still apparent. “I hope you’re not lying to me, or yourself for that matter.” 

“God, _ge,_ ” Renjun addresses with a shrill whine. “I promise it’s the truth. I will never lie to you.”

With that Sicheng exhales in relief, finally satisfied with Renjun’s answer. “Good. Then that’s good.” He says, petting Renjun on his head a few times.

Renjun feels the tension seeping from his body as he nudges Sicheng for another drink now that his glass is empty. Sicheng rolls his eyes but fills his glass with soda water. “Have some water instead, You guys don’t even pay for the drinks.”

Renjun snorts. Even though Renjun knows Sicheng means well, he still wants to tear his hair out sometimes. “I just can’t have a good time when I visit you, can I?” He sips his water snidely.

Sicheng smirks pompously, hands propped on his hips. “That’s what you get for being your snarky and disrespectful self, little brother. Run along now, I still have a business to run.”

-

Three down, two sober. What a solid record.

“I understand if Mark and Jeno are lightweights, but why the fuck is Hyuck smashed too?” Renjun huffs, depositing the last of the inebriated bodies into the car. Thankfully Sicheng and Yuta offered them a lift, so the two wouldn’t have to haul them back in the middle of the night.

“Ask Yuta. He was the one that gave them the shots.”

“Hey!” Yuta exclaims defensively. “Donghyuck kept whining for more, I couldn’t refuse him, could I? Just imagine the ruckus!”

“I’m going to beat his ass when he wakes up tomorrow.” Renjun seethes, the lack of space stifling and doing great things to his headache. Frankly, there’s nothing he wants other than his glorious bed right now. Five guys at the back of the car way exceeded the car’s limit, the vehicle’s undercarriage gratingly scraping the tarmac when it goes over the speed bumps. An audible cry seeps out from Yuta’s mouth, and Renjun flusters guiltily. To reduce the weight he has no choice but to sit on Jeno’s lap as gingerly as he possibly can, his hands grasping Sicheng’s seat for purchase as he tries to deposit the weight— to the best of his ability— somehow.

Jeno suddenly stirs from unconsciousness, catching Renjun by surprise when he feels arms circling his abdomen. In an instant he’s dragged backwards, head hitting Jeno’s shoulder with a soft thud. Renjun tries to pull himself up, but that just makes Jeno tighten his hold even more.

“Likes… c-cuddles.” Renjun catches just that when Jeno slurs his words, and he winces helplessly when Jeno puffs out drowsily on his neck. The sharp smell of alcohol is enough evidence that the majority of the group has taken _unlimited_ drinks quite literally.

His eyes glazed over and out of the window, and he recognizes the street, a mere ten minutes walk from their apartment, which means they will be reaching soon. _Oh, home sweet home._

A small cry abruptly escapes from Jeno’s lips. In the proximity, Renjun discerns the furrow on his brows and the tension in his jaw. Without thinking he strokes Jeno on his cheek lightly to coax him back into sleep.

“Say cheese.”

_Click._

The sudden flash startles Renjun and he turns towards the source. Sicheng grins, phone raised as he snaps a few more pictures. “Aww, you two look so cute.”

Hasty hands reach out to grab the phone, but Sicheng is quicker. Jaemin cackles out at the commotion, thoroughly entertained at the expense of Renjun.

“Delete them!” Renjun roars, still prying Jeno’s hand away from his torso.

“Nope.” Sicheng dismisses bluntly, cooing as he studies the photos. “Look at this, Yuta,” Sicheng says, and Yuta turns to look for a quick second. “Aren’t they adorable?”

Yuta nods, agreeing, his focus back on the road. “Go get ‘em, tiger!”

“Oooh, send me the photos later, Sicheng hyung!” Jaemin pipes after, and they all burst out in clamorous laughter at once.

“I fucking hate you guys.” Renjun cries and whines frustratedly.

“Sure, I’ve heard this too many times to count.” Sicheng retorts back.

Renjun simmers in his rage, and in an act of impish impulse, he gets even by aiming a quick blow at Jeno’s ribs.

Well, that settles it then.

-

Jeno jolts awake, hands feeling around the bed for his phone. He peers blearily at the numbers showing on the screen when it lights up. _12.43 pm._ He mutters out a sigh, fingers pressing on his temple when he feels pain throbbing violently on his skull, and strangely, soreness on the right side of his torso too. He absentmindedly rubs at the spot as he recalls his schedule for today. He has missed his morning lecture, soon his afternoon period too, but he doesn’t feel like getting out of his bed with his splitting headache in any case. 

His right arm reaches to his bedside table for his glasses, but he doesn’t find the glasses or the smooth surface of the table. Gaping in confusion, he scans his surroundings, blurrily making out the shapes of two figures sharing a bed on the other side of the room. Things start to get in focus when he squints in concentration, and he sees numerous picture frames and drawings pasted on his side of the room, little doodles and sketches that he recognizes to be Renjun’s work.

 _Oh, god._ This isn’t his room or his apartment. He scrambles out of the bed, but the sudden movement causes him to sway on his feet. He steels himself, hand reaching out for the drawers against a spasm of vertigo.

 _Drat_. He can’t find his glasses anywhere in his pockets or the room.

One curious look at the sleeping figures and they turn out to be Donghyuck and Mark. Mark has his arms wrapped comfortably around Donghyuck’s torso, both looking snugly serene and peacefully in oblivion. A small smile forms in his face, and he decides against waking them up and leaves the room as silently as he could.

“You’re up, sunshine!” Jisung calls from the dining table when Jeno appears, a tight-lipped smile blossoming as he nibbles on a piece of bread. “This is for you.”

Jeno gazes down at the pill and glass on the table. “Thanks.” He rasps, swilling down the pill with water in one long gulp. He drops into the seat and unceremoniously drapes his body on the table. 

“How are you feeling?”

“Like I’m slammed by a truck,” Jeno mumbles sluggishly.

“Don’t remember anything?” Jisung pops a question.

“No, damn, I hope I didn’t cause a scene.” Jeno peers up, apprehensive.

“That’s something for Donghyuck to worry about because a drunk Donghyuck has no shame.” Jisung grins, patting the crumbs off his hands, and he’s back on his phone typing away.

The thought of Mark and Donghyuck in bed, both in such an intimate position alerts him of a particular detail. Jeno gazes around the house cautiously, relieved that the boy in question is not present. 

“So… I slept on Renjun’s bed.”

“You did,” Jisung replies plainly.

“Did we... Renjun… Erm.” He stutters, unable to piece the words to make it sound more casual. “Did I… perhaps uh… Share the bed with Renjun?”

That catches Jisung’s attention. Tittering, he lowers his phone, head dipped in amusement. “Aww, do you wish to share the bed with Renjun?”

“Come on now, Jisung.” Jeno whines.

“But what if you did share the bed with Renjun? What are you going to do with that information?”

Jeno appears stumped, jaw slack in thought. “Erm, I don’t know, apologise for my behaviour… something along those lines.”

“Well, you don’t have to apologise for that since he bunked in my bed yesterday. You’re lucky that you had the bed all to yourself.”

Jeno exhales out in relief, but there’s an inexplicable feeling of disappointment for some reason. “Right. That’s great then.” He mutters, voice strained.

“However, you may have to atone for something else entirely.” Jisung stifles a smile, swipes his phone screen for several seconds before sliding his phone towards Jeno. The anticipation on his face is palpable.

“What?” Jeno picks up the device. Instantly his eyes widened like saucers at the horrifying and discriminating evidence displayed on the screen, his neck and ears burning up in a fluster.

In the candid set of photos, he’s unmistakably passed out without a care in the world. And yet, in all them, he has Renjun wrapped possessively in his arms and propped on his lap, like he's fucking five again and needs a teddy bear to sleep. The photos are already dreadfully mortifying on all counts, but the most alarming was the one photo where Renjun looked like he’s cradling his face. His hands fly up to touch his cheek, and he gawks distressingly at Jisung’s increasingly smug face as he tries to make sense of it all.

“Oh. My. FUCKING. GOD!” Jeno unthinkingly shrieks, his high-pitched scream waking Donghyuck and Mark awake. Mark follows with his own ear-piercing scream several moments after.

—

Much has happened after that eventful night out. Jaemin has lost his only pair of glasses in the dance-floor, Donghyuck and Mark’s relationship have become disgustingly complicated, and most unexpectedly, his drunk behaviour doesn’t seem to have upset Renjun, but it also confuses Jeno a great deal when he doesn’t make any explanatory comment about his-friggin-hand-on-his-cheek!!!

It’s fine, Jeno tells himself. They were drunk, and worse could have happened. What is an innocent caress compared to the tales of intoxicated orgies or hookups or the like? He woke up safe, didn’t end up married, didn’t find himself missing a kidney or a lung. And that is already enough consolation than he deserves.

The culprit of the photos turn out to be Sicheng, but they wouldn’t be visiting the bar anytime soon, hence Renjun has directed most of his displeasure on Jaemin for spreading the photos to the rest in their chat group. But he’s relieved that the photos are overshadowed by a more prominent problem in the group, namely Donghyuck and Mark. Donghyuck clings to Mark as ever, but now that Mark has realised Donghyuck’s affections are far from platonic, the boy has deliberately kept his distance and rejected his advances. Yet with Donghyuck appearing sporadically in their apartment, and if Mark’s burning red ears are any indication, Jeno has a hunch that their relationship has not been put to a stop, but developed rather rapidly than Mark would like to admit.

When Jaemin asked him for a favour one day, he agreed to it immediately, out of guilt that Jaemin got most of the blame when he’s the direct cause of the photos in the first place. In the call he was vague with the details, only sending him time and address to meet the following day. When he arrives at the address, it turns out to be a hair salon, and he enters the shop with slight trepidation.

Jaemin has already arrived and motions him to one of the seats. As he flops down into the silky velvet seat, a stylist appears and wraps a cape across Jeno’s body.

“So, Jeno. You’re going to be my model.” He explains as if it explained everything.

Jeno gasps and swivels around in his seat, eyes widened in shock. “What?!”

Jaemin pats him on his shoulders, though it looks more like he’s caging him in his grip to be precise. “No time to waste! I’m so excited to see how your makeover’s gonna turn out!” He giggles and quickly gives way for the stylist. The woman combs through Jeno’s scruffy mop of hair and spritzes water to smoothen the strays. “So, Jaems, any crazy idea in that pretty head of yours?”

He hums theatrically and shuts his eyes, hands moving up in the air in quick erratic motions almost like he’s under a spell of some sort. A quick furrow on his brows and Jeno could almost see an idea forming in his head. _A tact for decorum will be helpful,_ Jeno prays desperately.

Jaemin’s eyes flew open with a new burning intensity, the crazed smile shattering Jeno’s hopes and dreams.

“Yes, Yerim-noona, I want him blonde.”

“No!!!” Jeno shrieks in his seat, protests unsurprisingly disregarded.

“Blonde it is.” She replies smugly and gets to work.

-

Jeno’s bored out of his mind the first two hours when Yerim bleaches his hair thrice to get to the desired shade. His scalp burns from the chemicals the first time, but it gets better as time passes, the burn subsiding to a slight tingling sensation. Yerim engages him with small talk, and by the third hour, he has already formed an easy camaraderie with her over sandwiches and coffee. 

He can hardly see without his glasses, but in the blurry vision, he notes a streak of platinum blonde reflected on the mirror. He frets over the possible outcome, eyes downcast. “What did I sign myself up for?”

Yerim swats him indignantly on his shoulder. “Rude! I’ll have you know I’m an award-winning hairstylist and colourist!”

Sheepish, Jeno rubs his palms in a gesture of apology. “I don’t mean it that way, I just— this is so attention-grabbing—”

“Isn’t that great though?” She reasons. “If you’ve got it, flaunt it!”

“I don’t care about those things though,” Jeno mumbles, but she hears it nonetheless.

“Bullshit.” Yerim rolls her eyes. “Chin up. I’m about to cut your hair now.”

Exhaling out a long-suffering sigh, Jeno shuts his eyes and listens to the first snapping sounds of scissors by his ear, feeling the feathery locks of hair falling past his nape. 

Four hours later, Jaemin comes back to collect him. 

To say he’s awestruck is a gross understatement.

“OH DAMNNNNN!” Jaemin screeches, jaw dropped and eyes bulging as he carefully examines Jeno from head to toe. “This feels like those scenes in dramas where the ugly girl turns out hot after she loses some weight, fixes her teeth and drinks some PPL shit. You, on the other hand, was somewhat cute in a nerdy way from the start, but FUCK ME. This is a total upgrade!” Jaemin whistles appreciatively as Jeno turns increasingly red-faced by his response.

Unfamiliar with the concept of personal space, _as usual_ , Jaemin swoops down against Jeno’s ear and whispers enthusiastically. “Fuck me still stands. I’m always here if you’re ever in need of a quick fuck.”

“H—Holy shit! Jaemin, knock it off!” Jeno recoils, backing up several steps in fright.

“Please, have you seen yourself in the mirror?” Jaemin nudges his chin intensely to the direction of the mirrors. 

“Not really— the thing is—”

“Look. Look at yourself right now.”

Jeno gives in resignedly with a sigh and narrows his eyes to bring the reflection in focus. In the mirror he could see vaguely that the back of his head is tightly shaven, the blonde hair at the top is combed up and held in place with gel, just a few locks falling strategically on his forehead. His long shaggy fringe that partially covers his eyes has been snipped away, and it feels pretty strange that his face is… _laid bare_. 

Maybe… humility aside, he doesn’t look half bad.

“I’m alright… I guess.” He mumbles, still stubbornly unassertive till the very end.

“Is your friend painfully unaware of his good looks or his humility a part of his concept?” Yerim grouses under her breath.

“I think it’s a combination of both.”

Jeno moves away from the mirror and breaks into a sigh. “Man, I need a new pair of glasses though. I really can’t see shit.”

“OOOH!” Jaemin gasps and claps his hand in unbridled delight. “I happened to have the most brilliant idea.”

“No more ideas, Jaemin.” Jeno moans wearily.

“Jeno babe, the first rule when you’re out with me. Never say no to shopping!” Jaemin clicks his tongue and wags his index, the smile on his face wide splitting.

-

An unwitting thought flashes in Renjun’s mind and his features betray of abashment when he realises it. _Oh god, I’m not of a sound mind right now_ , he cries inwardly. Maybe this is a good time to be pious as he whispers a prayer to the heavens, to the spirits, or _anyone,_ for clemency. Indeed, this feeling is entirely carnal and shallow, but he can’t help himself really. Give him a few more years, he might develop more level-headedness to stay unaffected, but for now, he can only make the best of his traits.

What a coincidence too, he had just sat in on a lecture on Kant’s* _Critique of Judgement_. With his thinking hat worn, he mulls over what he learnt of class today and how it perfectly correlates with his current dilemma. The philosophy of art, of what we deem aesthetically as _art,_ is debated by thinkers and critics for centuries. In his humble opinion, the preferred aesthetic of an individual is cognitively influenced in many areas, furthermore, the intuitive preference of the individual is subject to change from many factors.

So what changed for him? What are the factors that affected his judgement of the aesthetic beauty, the very appeal of _this_ individual? Could it be the change of hairstyle that showcases his prominent facial features, or the light-coloured locks that transform his aura from ordinary to striking just like that? Conceivably, it may be Jaemin’s hand in his clothing that accentuates his excellent leg-to-body proportions. Or maybe, it's captivating in the way the new silver-framed glasses are a disparate addition to the intended bad-boy, co-ord look. Knowing them, the chic style is Jaemin’s work, but the glasses… Renjun purses his lips in amusement. It’s so Jeno.

While the rest whistles and hoots in boisterous welcome of the newcomers, Renjun sips his can of sprite and resumes his assessment on Jeno as discreetly as possible. He… is stunning, he will give him that.

“Maybe you want to keep your staring to a minimum?” Jisung coughs by his side, his expression tinged with amusement.

Maybe his ogling wasn’t inconspicuous enough.

“Shut up.” He barks, his ears tinging red.

“Ugh, my shoes are killing me.” Jaemin whines and deposits the shopping bags on an unsuspecting Jisung. Pushing out the seat across Renjun, he prods Jeno on his elbow. “Come on, Jeno. Sit by my side like a good arm candy so that they can resume revelling in the glory of my success.”

“What the fuck,” Jisung huffs at the mountain of bags and pushes them away from his lap. Apologetic, Jeno makes a move to remove them, but a curious Donghyuck beats him to it. He skims the contents, humming in approval a few times, and eventually, he looks up with an indignant pout. “Why aren’t I invited? You know I love makeovers, I’ve got so many ideas after watching Queer Eye. That episode on-”

Jaemin snorts contemptuously. “Sorry to say, you’re no Fab Five. I am the only _fab_ _one_ around here anyway.”

Donghyuck deliberately aims a soggy fry at Jaemin’s clothes. 

“I’m curious about what Renjun hyung has to say about Jeno’s new look though, he’s been awfully quiet,” Jisung says with a straight face.

 _I will see you back in our dorm, Jisung,_ Renjun smiles gloweringly, glare every bit threatening. At times like this, he has a very good poker face on, undeterred and unbreaking even as his pulse spikes when Jeno glances in his direction. “Yeah, erm, blonde is a good look on you. You look nice.”

Jeno beams, eyes turning into crescents. “T—Thanks.” He runs his fingers into his hair embarrassedly, and Renjun tries very hard not to focus on that.

“Oh my god, Jen. Why did you turn hot? Who’s going to be the ugly one in our group now?” Chenle whines and bites into his burger sorrowfully. “Oh, I know! Mark!”

“HEY!” Donghyuck and Mark screech in unison. Donghyuck’s outburst caught Mark by surprise, his face turning crimson when Donghyuck retorted in favour of his looks. “This is a face far from ugly! Get it right, Chenle!” 

In the background, Chenle and Jisung fake a coughing fit to cover their giggles, albeit poorly disguised.

“Now, now. Food first, flirting later.” Jaemin reprimands with a flimsy fry pointing in their direction. He takes a bite of his burger and groans in satisfaction. “Ugh. Shopping is great and all, but I’m so famished.”

“Here, Jaem. Finish this too.” Renjun slides his tray, and Jaemin sends a flying kiss in his direction.

“You’re not hungry?” Jeno asks.

“Not really.” Renjun shrugs. 

He shouldn’t have noticed it, but there, on the corner of Jeno’s lips, lies a smidgen of ketchup. But he did, and he’s a helpful person, so he tells him anyway.

“You have a bit of—“ Renjun points at the spot. “—Ketchup.”

“Oh!” Jeno replies, and a sliver of tongue peeps out, the pink wet flesh licking at the corner of his lips a few times before it slips back into his mouth. “Anywhere else?”

 _What the fuckity flying fuck._ Him licking his lips a day ago would not have the same effect as today.

With his new style, not only does it look arousing, it fucking looks provocative, and his heart unwittingly pounds at that. 

Panic spikes in, and he knows the feeling, the feeling of _arousal._ An internal voice screams at him to cast away all those untoward desires that are merely influenced by a humanistic lust. _Of course, it can happen, it’s human nature._ And precisely because it’s human nature, it doesn’t matter what and how he feels right now. In the end, Jeno’s still that dork that he likes to make fun of, and most importantly, Jeno’s his friend.

So no, he’s not going to be that shallow and imprudent about this.

_Yes, Renjun. Calm your nonexistent tits._

“No. You’re good.” Renjun shakes his head intensely, his gaze steeled back at the rest of his friends who seem to be in a heated discussion of the latest TV show. Underneath the table, Renjun tightens his fists and fights a mental battle as he desperately tries to cast away the image of Jeno and his tongue. 

He succeeds. Eventually.

—

The actual favour turned out to be a quick modelling session for Jaemin’s portfolio, something that incredulously brings a sigh of relief for Jeno. He expected worse from Jaemin after all.

“Wow, you designed all these?” Jeno marvels at the row of stylish garments hanging on the rack, the first thing that caught his attention when he enters Jaemin’s studio.

“Uh-huh.” Jaemin puffs his chest in pride. “And I’m glad you’re willing to help, Jeno. I ask Jisung for help way too many times, I’m glad to have someone else for a change!”

“Don’t you think a real model would have been better? I mean— I’m happy to help, but—”

“Because I spend too much time hooking up with them instead of working.” Jaemin comments matter-of-factly, and he chuckles when he sees Jeno’s expression. “I’m just pulling your leg.”

“Somehow, I feel that wasn’t too far away from the truth.” Jeno quips.

“Mostly it was because I was lazy and didn’t want to spend time altering my clothes to fit the model. The patterns were drawn to my measurements, and since you’re roughly the same build as me, I thought I would ask you for your help!” Jaemin explains as he sets his camera on the tripod.

“I see.” Jeno nods and scans around at the space. A wide table takes up half of the studio, the sewing machine and a wide collection of prints, swatches, and fabrics all neatly arranged on the table. The rest of the space is used for the shoot where a makeshift backdrop is set up between two softboxes.

“You’re extremely talented, Jaemin. I don’t know much about fashion, but these clothes look so cool.”

Jaemin laughs. “Aww, you’re too kind. Don’t praise me too much, I’m already too complacent for my own good!”

“Glad you’re aware of that,” Renjun interjects when he enters the studio with Chenle and Jisung in tow. 

“Shit, why are you guys here?” Jaemin moans, his hands grumpily propped on his hips at their impromptu appearances.

“To support Jeno, of course.” Chenle peers around the room in interest. “Don’t you know? Jeno was a child model for several years before he nerdified himself.”

“Oh, god.” Jeno baulks when three pairs of eyes zeroes on him in a renewed interest.

“Oooh, you’ve never told us!” Jaemin shrieks.

“It’s not that interesting…”

“I’m afraid it’s the most interesting thing I’ve heard about you, Jeno.” Renjun snides and that earns a few laughs from the rest.

“Ugh. It hurts even more when you’re the one saying it.” Jeno bleats, and Renjun pats him comfortingly on his shoulder.

“Come on, don’t diss my model. I need him in tip-top condition.” Jaemin zips past them to grab the first set of garments on the rack. “Here, get changed. Dressing room at the back.”

“Ooh boy. Can’t wait to see you in your element now that I know you were a child model.” He winks, tapping Jeno on his rear when he leaves.

-

 _How is this the same Jeno?_ Renjun muses the question as he observes him at work. It’s as if there’s an imaginary switch flipped on the instant Jeno stands behind the camera. He poses with practised ease, experience evident in his posture and mien, and it’s just uncanny to witness this version of Jeno and the Jeno he has known in the recent months.

“Wow, Jeno, you’re looking amazing!” Jaemin gushes as he presses the shutter successively. “Now, slightly to the right— wooooooo, that’s great, babe!” 

One by one, the photos are synced to Jaemin’s laptop. Jisung gawks at the monitor and the photoshoot at the same time, mouth gaped open in fascination. “Wow.”

“Double wow.” Chenle stares, spell-bound.

Renjun was too quick to assume he had him all figured out, presuming that Jeno is more or less a studious, painfully innocent, too kind for his own good sort of person. If anything, there’s more to Jeno than he lets on. Spurred in a burst of inspiration, Renjun pulls out his sketchbook from his haversack, intending to commit the moment on paper.

Some people like to document by films or photos; but drawing has always been Renjun’s medium of choice, choosing to store the littlest scenes or significant events in every scratch of graphite and smudge of pastels. It’s because there are always insights to be discovered as he draws. He catches on the details through observation; the unconscious quirks and habits, the hidden emotions that his subjects have conditioned themselves to conceal. Body language often betrays the true state of mind in seconds of lapse, and Renjun likes those moments the best. It’s during those exact moments that are the most candid and genuine of a person’s character.

And drawing Jeno is interesting. Intrigue slips him further into his thoughts when he witnesses two conflicting characteristics of Jeno.

_Right there._

_Skittish Jeno_ manifests when Jaemin calls for a break to change the lens of his camera. He taps his feet on the floor repetitively, brows furrowed as he waits wordlessly. On the other side of the room, Renjun begins with a rough sketch before observing the shadows and highlights cast on Jeno’s profile.

“You look fucking awesome, Jeno!” Chenle shrieks, his legs swaying back and forth cheerily as he perches himself on top of the table.

But the poor boy startles, shoulders caging up for a second. Renjun snorts and shakes his head slightly at his reaction. _Wasn’t he just confidently posing mere seconds ago?_

Apprehensive, Jeno smiles thinly and puts an index finger on his lips indicating at Chenle to keep quiet.

Yet when Jaemin returns with his camera, Jeno’s aura shifts dramatically until there’s no trace of diffidence seen on his demeanour. It is rather disconcerting to witness the change, drawing neglected as he stares, transfixed. _Poised Jeno_ resumes with stellar aplomb and continues as masterfully as he could, delivering much charisma and character as the shoot resumes.

 _Fuck, it’s as if he has multiple personalities_ — _Wait, no, that’s flawed thinking on his part_. It’s misguided to pigeonhole Jeno’s personality into distinct categories, even worse, to describe them as being conflicting. Skittish, poised, whichever that is, Renjun rationalizes as he resumes drawing, they make up who Jeno is as a person, and it’s the unpredictable complexity that makes everyone human. Besides, he should know that making broad generalizations and flippant assumptions can be prejudicial more than anyone else. He’s the one with all the tattoos and piercings, but that doesn’t mean he has set himself on a path of lawless and transgressive lifestyle, does he? 

Pursing his lips, he casts the thoughts aside in favour of finishing his piece. Renjun has to admit, _sometimes_ , Jaemin does have a good eye for style. The more time he spends on filling in the face, the more he agrees blonde’s a good choice as it accentuates Jeno’s features marvellously. Moreover, he has eyes, and he knows a handsome man when he sees one. Similar to his initial reaction at the burger joint days ago, Jeno’s appearance is honestly beguiling. He has amazingly long eyelashes, dense and shadowy that flutters softly whenever he blinks. The next is his nose, proportionately straight and arched that brings a harmonious balance to his facial features. The hair only makes his skin look even paler under the harsh lights, but conversely, the tint on his lips appears even more vivid than he remembers. 

And _god_ , Jeno’s drab wardrobe doesn't do his body frame much justice if he appears well-built in Jaemin’s clothes.

“New muse?” Jisung chimes, looking at Renjun's artwork in smug interest. He glances up for a second, grunts noncommittally and continues drawing. This interests Chenle as well, and the boy leaps down from the tabletop to look at Renjun’s half-finished drawing.

“Wow, Renjun hyung, you’re so talented!”

“I know.” He deadpans matter-of-factly, but the tinkling little laugh after gives him away. “You should see some of the people in my class. They are legendary.”

“Yeah, Renjun’s senior— Ten hyung? I’m not exaggerating, but Renjun’s drawings in comparison to his looks similar to chicken scratches.” Jisung flings the snub brazenly, and Renjun rolls his eyes.

“Yours already looks pretty amazing to me though.” Chenle insists. 

Renjun tilts his head in a quick study, the corner of his lips upturned.

“I stand corrected. Chenle is my favourite _dongsaeng_ now.” Renjun announces, and the returning pout on Jisung’s lips is impressively sour. “Whatever!” He crosses his arms petulantly.

Chenle cackles and clings to Renjun gloatingly for good measure.

“Why the long face, Jisung?” Jaemin chirps as he fishes for the second set of outfits. The shoot for the first garment finishes timely, and both of them join in the discussion.

“Because I’m Renjun hyung’s favourite now.” Chenle smirks, face nuzzling against Renjun’s shoulder. To carry the point further, Renjun nods in acknowledgement and pats him lightly on his head.

“Wrong move, Renjun. Chenle’s a menace.” Jeno shudders at the scene. His eyes fall to the sketchpad on Renjun’s lap, and his eyes widen in shock. “Is… Is that me?” He gasps.

Renjun darts down to his lap and back up, suddenly increasingly conscious for some reason. “Yes.” He says, forcing a blank look on his face.

Jeno’s mouth gapes open, cheeks flushed. “T-Thank you? I’m flattered… that you’re drawing me.”

“Jisung thinks my drawings are chicken scratches though. Maybe you should feel insulted instead.” Renjun shrugs.

“What?” Jeno looks at Renjun and Jisung, gears wheeling in his head. The display of confusion is almost convincing if not for the upturned corners of his lips. He rubs at his jaw as he muses, “But I recalled Jisung telling me when we first met a SUPER talented person drew his skateboard… and that person is you though.”

Jisung sputters incoherently in shock, hands wringing in embarrassment from the reveal. “Ugh, Jeno hyung, I told you that IN CONFIDENCE!”

“Awwwwwwwwwwww.” Jaemin drones out as Jeno bursts out laughing. “Turns out, the disrespectful youngest is actually a tender-hearted baby. B-A-B-Y.” Jaemin spells out each letter gloatingly.

“You’re still in second place, little shit! You can’t fool me!” Renjun jives when Jisung scurries away and out from the studio as fast as he can.

Jeno snickers as he watches Jisung’s escaping figure. “Aww, he’s cute.”

“Mostly still a dumbass.” Renjun ripostes. Jeno turns to meet his gaze, and they dissolve into astonished laughter simultaneously at their unrehearsed alliance to embarrass the hell out of the youngest.

—

It’s really fun and laughter for a bit until it isn’t.

It’s funny there’s a visible air of tension around the people wherever Renjun goes, and being within that bubble is a fascinating experience for Jeno. It’s amusing to see the look on some people’s faces when their gaze lands on Renjun, and the faltered, one-step-back reflex is a running bet between them whenever they hang out together. However, the fun doesn’t last when he starts to discern the thinly veiled disgust carried on their faces, and it’s sickening to get wind of the crude and nasty blabs that should have been spoken low to a whisper. Times like these he wishes to scream at them to scram off because they have no right to be discussing Renjun. 

It’s one thing to have a cavalier disregard of the person they are tattling about, he can’t stop them from thoughtlessly discussing Renjun even if it irks the hell out of him. But it’s another to hear them spout unfounded crap and form baseless judgements from his mere appearance alone. It helps to diffuse the attention now that Renjun has dyed his hair back to black, but that’s beside the point really. It’s his body, he can do whatever the fuck he wants, and people just have to respect that.

It definitely feels like a punch in his gut to become aware that he similarly formed perfunctory opinions in the past, the very first time they met. And for that, he's deeply self-reproachful, and it would be a lie to say he doesn’t suffer pangs of conscience for his folly. This is why Jeno makes it a point to pierce them with his glares, teeth snaring at the gossipers, and he gets a kick out of the discomfiting looks on their shocked faces when he makes eye contact with every single one of them.

“Jeno?”

At the call, he whips around, and Renjun’s initial curious expression morphs quickly into one of exasperation when he notices his aggression. “Were you trying to scare the hell out of everyone in the cafe with your death stares?”

Jeno purses his lips. It’s evident Renjun hears them too, but unlike him, his expression is constantly stolid and indifferent. How does he even do that?

“They were staring.”

“Okay?”

“And they were saying mean things about you.” He huffs.

Renjun gives him a wilted look. “So?”

Jeno blinks twice, not registering the calm in his tone. “So… it’s offensive.”

Renjun quirks an eyebrow and drops his voice to a soft timbre. “Jeno, if I don’t take offence, why should you?”

It’s discomfiting if he says it like that, because… he’s just mad that people are making the same mistakes as him, and a part of him wants to defend Renjun from that negativity since he doesn’t deserve them a single bit. At a loss for words, Jeno runs his fingers into his scalp, and a baffled whine escapes at the back of his throat.

“I’m glad you’re looking out for me.” Renjun continues, patting Jeno’s hand gratefully. “But Jeno, I don’t need to seek validation or understanding from strangers who know nothing about me. By not stooping low to their level, I am the better person. Besides, it’s too tiring to get bothered by what they say, so I just don’t, and I’ve never been happier.”

_Ahh._

_So that’s how he thinks._

Jeno deflates in his chair, a small pout as he stabs the ice cubes with the straw unconsciously. “I guess I was being dumb. Sorry.”

“Don’t apologise.” Renjun grins, his arm stretching across the distance to ruffle his hair affectionately. “Cute.”

Jeno’s heart does a weird thump then as his brain decides to have a mind of his own, the endearment echoed in his mind repeatedly. _Cute… cute… I’m cute…_

“Then again,” Renjun adds, oblivious to Jeno’s mental state. “A week ago if people were staring, high chance it's due to my appearance. But now, I’m not so sure about that.”

“What do you mean?” Jeno snaps out of his reverie instantly.

“It’s not all malicious, Jeno. Some people are staring because they find you hot.”

He baulks at the information, surreptitiously taking a glance around the cafe. “No way…”

“Yup,” Renjun mutters, distracted as he tries to scoop an ice cube with the straw. He succeeds after multiple tries, and during the time a question forms in Jeno’s head. Weirdly enough as he stares at Renjun chewing the ice with fervour, he finds himself eager to hear his answer. 

“What about you? Do you find me… attractive too?” Jeno asks, point-blank.

An inexplicable emotion crosses Renjun’s face as they meet eyes, and he doesn’t reply, not immediately at least. It’s at this moment Jeno discovers silence is now his worst enemy. Chenle should be comforted that his spot has dropped to second.

Maybe it’s also not too late to say it’s a joke. “Hah, I’m—”

“Yes, I think so too.” Renjun nods without batting an eyelid. Candour is always his strongest suit, this time’s no exception.

Watching Jeno’s expression go from doubtful, to awe, and lastly to palpable panic, is entertaining. He suppresses a smile, finding his reactions satisfying whenever he toys with him. _Little victories._

Jeno splutters and coughs the next second, coffee going down the wrong pipe and Renjun supplies him with a paper napkin. “God, do you always get so easily shaken up?”

“I didn’t expect it, that’s why!” Jeno retorts as he wipes the liquid dribbling down his chin.

Renjun leans back on his chair, lips curling up. “What did you expect? That I will say you’re not only ugly and crazy for asking?”

Jeno narrows his eyes. “That's more like you!”

“Ouch. Don’t you know me long enough to know I’m not that big of an asshole? Is that how you think of me?” Renjun slumps his shoulders and says with mock offence. “And I thought we were friends…”

“Ugh. You’re really…” Jeno whines, searching for the right word in frustration.

“Adorable? Exceptional? One of a kind?”

“You’re impossible!” Jeno screeches.

A wide grin stretches across Renjun’s face, and he breaks into a fit of giggles.

Subdued, Jeno stares at Renjun’s smiling face, but unknowingly, he finds himself smiling, a chuckle escaping with Renjun's mirth. An odd tingling sensation blooms in his chest, and he finds that joviality is a good look on Renjun. Somehow, he finds it weirdly satisfying, to see him cheerful. Even if the jokes are at the expense of himself, he doesn't mind it that much. At least Renjun’s happy, and that’s good enough.

-

“I’m thinking of asking Donghyuck out.” Mark huffs.

Jeno misses a step, his body lurching forwards. He recovers fast enough so that his face doesn’t fall flat on the coarse tartan track. _Phew._ Hands propped on his thighs as he pants heavily, Mark jogs back to him, face in a concerned grimace. “What happened?”

“What good timing to drop a bomb in the middle of our run, I almost fell!”

Mark appears rueful, beads of sweat starting to run down his face by their fourth lap. “Right. My bad.”

“But wait, hyung. Aren’t you two already an item?” He straightens his back and starts jogging in place.

Mark blinks rapidly and avoids his question by sprinting ahead. Jeno groans and picks up speed himself, and soon he catches up with him.

“Don’t tell me bits and pieces and then decide to ignore me hyung, it’s irritating.”

“Let’s finish this first. I promise to tell you everything later.”

They clock another thirty minutes on the track until both call it a night, their routine run ending with them sprawled on the benches as they cool off, their clothes fully soaked in the humid summer night. The perspiration lay cool on their skin with every light breeze, and Jeno takes in the view of the stadium as he drinks his water. There aren’t many people on the field compared to the day before, just a handful left before the stadium closes in a half hour.

“Spill.” Jeno comments, pushing his sweat-filled fringe away from his forehead.

“It’s complicated.”

“God. You're really milking the suspense too much now.”

“Alright, alright,” Mark mumbles, the tip of his ears quickly turning red. “Erm. Right. So… We never discuss dating— or being boyfriends. Just between us, we only cuddle, kiss— and er, fuck.” Mark resolutely trains his sight to the field as he mumbles the last bit and Jeno simpers.

“I make him coffee, he cooks me burnt ramen, we discuss school, our aspirations and dreams of the future, and quickly it feels too personal, intimate. We’re supposed to keep it casual between us, no strings attached. But the longer I spend time with him… how I wish that we’re something more, and that’s when I realised I like him. But I don’t know how to feel about our current relationship… I don’t even know what we are now actually.”

Jeno sucks in a breath as he takes in the information. He has known Mark for two years but the boy has never engaged in any form of romantic exploits, too focused on his studies and extracurricular activities to even have time for anything else. Although he comes across as open-minded about affairs of the heart, Jeno has the sneaking suspicion that Mark is less versed than he portrays. Their relationship must have been confusing for Mark, _hell_ , he is confused as well. He thought the heart eyes Donghyuck flings at every single opportunity was enough indication that the feelings are mutual and their relationship is stable, but maybe his assumption was wrong.

Oh, what kind of advice should he even give when he’s none the wiser? He doesn't even think Mark should be asking him about his relationship troubles when he’s never ever dated. 

But one thing’s for sure. There’s one advice Mark most needed to hear.

“Hyung, both of you need to have a talk.”

-

“Both of you need to have a talk,” Renjun comments from his bed as Donghyuck paces in their room the umpteenth time. Even though his nails are already bitten down to the skin, he still nibbles on them anyway.

A small sigh of anxiety leaps out from Donghyuck's lips as he finally stops pacing. “Do you think Mark’s tired of me?”

“I don’t know, but you need to stop mulling and assuming the worst. You’re spiralling.”

And Donghyuck never spirals, not so early into the relationship in any case. With his experience under his belt; two serious relationships, three flings, and one intimate involvement with Jaemin, he still manages to have control in all of them. This time around, Donghyuck is teetering between insecurity and desolation, and the anxiety etched in his features is startling and unfamiliar.

“He told me not to go over to his apartment this week. Doesn’t that mean he’s breaking up with me?”

Renjun purses his lips and pulls to his feet, hands shaking Donghyuck’s shoulders violently. “Hyukkie. There’s nothing to break up from if both of you haven’t even discussed dating, just like you told me.”

“Keeping it casual between us was a fucking mistake,” Donghyuck whispers, lips quivering.

Renjun inclines his head, voice softening. “Are you really in love with him?”

“I thought it was a passing fancy too. But I like him a lot, Injun. I really do.” Donghyuck’s face falls. “Maybe he has enough fun, that’s why he doesn’t want me around anymore…”

“I’m sure Mark isn’t that kind of person,” Renjun assures, pulling him into his embrace as he pats his back soothingly. A strong urge to protect and comfort his best friend washes over because he’s never seen Donghyuck so troubled. There must be something he can do for him. 

"I'm going to the bathroom." His eyes follow after Donghyuck as he leaves the room. When he hears the sound of the bathroom door locked shut, he quickly dials Jeno’s number.

“Hello? Renjun?” Jeno answers on the second ring.

“We need to talk."

-

The best idea they can come out with is a setup. 

It’s fascinating when a person is moping they tend to lose attention on their surroundings, which was exactly what Jeno and Renjun took advantage of. They deposit their friends into the snack bar, sneaking off at the right moment as they’re ordering, and when both Mark and Donghyuck realise both are already long gone. The plot will proceed with both of them recognizing each other in the snack bar, and— the end scene. That’s exactly how they imagined it, and thank heavens their plan succeeded without any problems.

“What do you think they’re talking about?”

Renjun glances sideways and shrugs. “Judging from Donghyuck’s face they must be talking about something dry… like the weather.”

“Mark looks constipated.”

Renjun snorts. “They’re not ignoring each other, which is good I guess.”

“Can’t believe I’m hiding here and helping my friends with their love lives. I feel like Cupid all of a sudden.”

Making sure they aren’t caught, they share a vantage point behind the bus stop right outside the store, their frames pressed closely together on their sides as they furtively monitor their friends. Though for passersby crossing by the street and passengers in the buses, it must be peculiar to witness two weirdos with their huddled positions and secretive behaviours in the middle of the afternoon.

Something funny must have happened because the couple burst out in laughter, and it’s visible that the initial tension between them had slightly dissipated. “Donghyuck likes Mark a lot,” Renjun whispers as he looks at the boy twisting his hands nervously below the table. That means they are approaching the topic soon.

“Mark likes Donghyuck too. He told me himself.”

“We have two idiotic friends then.” Renjun grouses.

Mark puts down his cutleries and says something, incomprehensible with the distance, and it kills Jeno that he can’t hear what he’s talking about. He can only rely on observing Donghyuck’s expressions, and if he’s not frowning or looking dour Mark’s probably doing well. In a split second Donghyuck’s face lits up, the widest grin splitting in his features, and the mood is contagious. Mark looks relieved, joyous as his mouth parts out in a chuckle. Demeanours finally at ease, their hands venture out in unison to interlace their fingers together on the table. Food forgotten, they close in, lips meeting eventually for a kiss.

Thrilled, Renjun turns his head around, but he’s taken by surprise when Jeno’s face is mere centimetres away, a similar expression of relief and elation on his countenance. He spots the beauty mark right below Jeno’s eyes as they turn into crescents, slight lines creasing at the ends as it deepens. If he inclines his head just slightly, their noses would have touched.

In that bus-stop in the middle of a sweltering afternoon, he has let his parents down; they definitely didn’t raise him for twenty years of his young adult life to become so bashful over a small detail. His eyes dart down in haste just as a fuzzy tingle finds residence in his stomach.

“Oh god. My waist.” Jeno groans, stretching his body after being in the back-breaking position for so long. “Can’t believe they’re blind to see that they already like each other.” He offers his hand to Renjun still crouched on the ground.

“Yeah.” Renjun feels increasingly warm as he takes his hand, letting go immediately after he gets up. “It’s great that their liking is mutual.” He mutters distractedly.

Jeno agrees with a whole-hearted nod. “Imagine if the opposite happened. Unrequited love, crushes, that kind of stuff— It would have sucked.”

Renjun looks at his friends-turned-couple in the restaurant and back at Jeno, the words unusually evocative at this moment.

“Yes. It would have sucked.”

—

He’s not saying he’s an omniscient being who is all-wise and cognitive of the evolving dynamics of his group of friends, but he is saying he is _pretty_ close to it. Being the youngest doesn’t mean he’s green in his mindset, on the contrary, Jisung can confidently say that he has as much maturity, if not more than all of them. He has a discerning eye for many things in life, and when it’s his eye on the very people he calls his friends, his suspicions are usually proven correct.

Something has changed between Jeno and Renjun, he’s sure of it.

What impeccable timing to boot when the door opens and Renjun appears, slender legs kicking off his Dr Marts and he crosses the entryway with a lightness in his step, mood noticeably buoyant. Jaemin calls a quick greeting from the kitchen as he busies himself with fixing up dinner for later, and Renjun replies with a cheerful hum.

“Where have you been?” Jisung asks.

“The museum?” Renjun answers.

“Alone?”

That wipes the smile in an instant. A quizzical brow is cast in response to the question, and Renjun crosses his arms. “Something is up with you.” 

Jisung fights back a smirk as he sips his cup of tea. “I could honestly say the same about you.”

Jaemin’s head peeps out from the kitchen, spatula wielded in displeasure. “Don’t be a brat, Jisung!”

“I’m in the middle of an interrogation!!!” He declares brazenly, not caring about pretences anymore as he returns his focus on Renjun. “Well, who were you with? Answer the question.”

“Jeno.” Renjun evades his gaze, and that reaction alone is a testament that his intuition was correct. “I mean, I would have called either of you, but it was a last-minute thing.”

“Jeno again.” He notes matter-of-factly, relishing the discomfited look on Renjun’s face. “Renjun— hyung,” He adds, just for civility sake. “Are you interested in Jeno?”

Renjun’s jaw slackens, pupils darting in a dither.

Jaemin skids out of the kitchen at the bombshell, “Fuck, really?!”

“NO!” Renjun shrieks.

Maybe it's best that he doesn't try to deny at this point— it doesn't help when Jisung and Jaemin stare at him like he's stupid for attempting to lie to their faces.

“I mean— yes— ugh. I don’t know!”

"Yeap, I totally called it." Jisung leans back smugly on the couch as Jaemin squeals at the top of his lungs. “Aww, did our previous teasing work? Was that the beginning of your crush?”

“Fuck off, Jaemin.” Renjun pinches his nose bridge and plops down on the sofa, feet kicking in Jisung’s direction. “How did you know?”

“You can’t fool me, we practically grew up together.” Jisung dips his hands into his cup and flicks leftover tea in retaliation. “You’re happier when you’re spending more time with him, and sometimes, you have that dumb dazed look when he‘s around. It’s obvious.”

“Right,” Renjun mutters, the frown still etched on his features.

Jaemin detects the hesitation, the disquiet in his tone. “What’s wrong?”

“The thing is, I don’t know if the attraction’s purely physical or not.” Renjun groans into his palms. “I feel horrible that I’m finding him attractive after his makeover!”

Jisung and Jaemin share a look of concern, the topic abruptly veering to a tad delicate.

“You two hit it off fairly well before he got pretty, Injunnie. Besides, does it matter whether you’re attracted before or after Jeno’s change? The fact is you are drawn to him!” Jaemin counters.

“Trust me, hyung. I can tell he likes you too.”

Groaning out maddeningly, Renjun springs up from the couch to avoid their intent stares. “Why are the two of you so invested in my life?”

“Your happiness is my happiness,” Jisung quips sarcastically, and Renjun flips him off. “How about we test my theory? Doesn’t hurt to have a better idea of how Jeno thinks, right?”

Renjun levels a look that says _you’re fucking kidding_ , and he shakes his head sharply. “Don’t you dare.”

 _Oh_ , his hyungs never seem to learn. The way things go, they should have gathered by now that he is a true master of defying orders and disregarding seniority and therefore invulnerable to threats of any degree. 

Jisung shrugs, elbows raised in a trifling dismissal. “Sad to say, I dare.”

-

“7 minutes in heaven?!” Donghyuck spats out in surprise. “Aren’t we too old for this game?”

Always the gracious host of the party, Johnny flings two cases of booze into Donghyuck and Jisung’s arms. “I mean, sure, take the guest room. Take these too, if you’re playing alcohol is always a necessary addition.”

“Thanks, hyung!” Jisung skittles away, pulling Donghyuck with him after getting approval.

“The game is just a test, god,” Jisung grumbles at the older as they make their way back to their friends. “You weren’t around, but get this, Renjun likes Jeno, but he wouldn’t take a step further because of a stupid moral code. But I think the feeling’s mutual.”

“WHAT?!” Donghyuck exclaims with a piercing screech. “I can’t believe I’ve missed out on so much! What else? TELL ME.”

“If you’re not out so much for your dates you would have known.”

“You have no idea how much I miss my Mark baby every day... even though we meet every day too.” Donghyuck whines, earning a quick look of absolute disdain. “Come on, they helped Mark and me the other time. Favours must be returned.”

“We’re nearing the group, shush.” Jisung drops his voice to a whisper, holding a hand to stop Donghyuck. “Just make sure you spin the bottle well. And let me do the rest.”

Donghyuck beams, putting a thumbs up zealously. “Got it!”

-

Going to the party was out of obligation. Drinking was out of necessity. The game, is fucking out of the question.

“No, no, no, no, no, NO, nope, NOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!” Renjun screams into Jisung’s ears as he’s forcibly dragged by the younger. “You can’t force me. I’m leaving now.”

“Sure, keep telling yourself that.” Jisung deadpans and pushes Renjun unceremoniously into the hallway, dragging him towards the room on the far end. They finally enter the room, and there’s already a circle in the middle. The usual group’s there, plus a few other surprising faces: Yangyang, Henderey and Xiaojun, all who Renjun greets with a curt nod. He has barely kept in touch these two years after the breakup and he feels awkward with their presences. Furthermore, he’s playing a _dangerous_ game in the company of the very people with ties that are too convoluted for his liking. 

The temptation to tear Jisung's skin swells at an exponential rate. 

“So we’re playing just five rounds of seven minutes in heaven because someone’s a wuss.” Jisung growls, the quick glare at Renjun implying enough, and Jaemin snickers. “I assume all of you know the rules?”

“Of course, we’re not twelve. We know how the game goes.” Yangyang, also Jaemin’s junior, comments with an amused snort.

“Ugh, I’m gonna barf if I have to put my lips on yours.” Henderey convulses.

“You wish, dipshit.”

The only couple in the group is in a private conversation, where Renjun is close enough to overhear. “You’re okay with this?” Mark mutters, tone apprehensive.

“You don’t have to kiss anyone if you don’t want to, babe. Besides, there’s only one reason we’re playing this game.”

Renjun rolls his eyes. So it seems Donghyuck is also in cahoots with Jisung. Very well then. One more person to skin alive.

Trepidation sets in, his stomach churning uncomfortably when Jisung places an empty glass bottle in the middle. “Let’s see who the first person shall be…”

With a powerful flick of his wrist, the bottle swiftly spins in a pivot. _God_ , Renjun has never prayed so hard for anything in his life, but he badly wishes the bottle never lands on him for the whole game. He sneaks a glance at Jeno sitting at his 11 o’clock, and it's almost encouraging that the boy looks almost sick with nerves, fidgety hands twitching on his lap. The speed of the bottle gradually decreases as it swivels past Chenle. It’s unlikely that the bottle will land on him with the decreasing momentum, for that result Renjun allows himself to finally exhale in relief.

The bottle winds to a stop right on Yangyang, and he practically whoops in delight, his reaction undoubtedly wrong on so many levels. _So he’s still the same loopy nutjob_ , Renjun ponders internally.

“Oooooh. Yangyang, spin it yourself. It will be fun if you choose your partner!”

“Glad to.” He responds with a playful wink.

One more turn of the bottle and Renjun goes through the arduous process again. He takes a long gulp of his bottle to quell the jitters. 

It’s an anticlimactic outcome when it lands— right back on Yangyang, but not like Renjun’s complaining. The circle bursts out in raucous laughter, worst, most are exclaiming in relief. “Not fair!” Yangyang splutters, arms crossed in displeasure.

“You can kiss yourself with the mirror later,” Hendrey smirks, and that earns a painful slap on his lap.

“My turn to spin.” Jaemin smiles, deliberately making eye contact with Renjun, and fuck, that sardonic grin just gave him the weirdest creeps.

 _Of course_ , Renjun grits his teeth. Of course, Jaemin’s involved in it too. That’s practically a given. Despite his friends conspiring against him, the game is still very much in his favour as he weighs up the situation. With a bit of serendipity, there is still a good probability he wouldn’t get chosen, and even if they were to pull a fast one, he would know in an instant. Downing the last of his beer to pull himself together, he holds onto that thought, eyes fixating on the bottle.

“And it’s SPINNING!!”

-

What are the odds?

Four rounds after and Renjun is still not picked by the bottle.

Giddy with pleasure, his mind has lightened considerably. Well, the beer’s one of the reasons, already on his third bottle to calm his nerves, but it’s mostly because he’s decidedly optimistic of his chances by this juncture. One last round left and he can finally be relieved of this ordeal.

The previous couple; Jeno and Mark, a rather pointless match in itself, was seven minutes in the bathroom where they utilized their mouths for talking instead of kissing. Jisung has steam coming out of his ears by this point.

“RENJUN!!!” Donghyuck screams when he spins the bottle.

“RENJUN, RENJUN, RENJUN!!!” The circle chants, the deafening noise catching the attention of other partygoers, even Johnny has come by to view the game in interest. Renjun groans at the unifying howl of his name, his hands clasped tightly in urgent prayer.

“STOP. FUCKING STOP.” His composure collapses when the mouth of the bottle is just two persons away from him.

“AHHHHHHH JUST A BIT MORE!!!” Jisung screams shrilly when the bottle inches round at a waning pace. 

Everyone watches with bated breath when it passes by Xiaojun first, and then Jisung, but by then, Renjun's prayers are proven futile since the bottle carries enough velocity to loom towards him. Renjun shakes his head profusely, body flailing in frustration, unable to accept the bottle’s betrayal and his imminent downfall.

“Nonononononoooooooo. GOD. NOOOOOOOOOO.” He cries when the bottle stops right on him, spitefully and horrifyingly so.

“YESSSSSSSS FUCKING YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!!!” Jisung leaps up in an obnoxious display of euphoria as he rejoices in immense laughter. The rest of the group joins in, leaving Renjun to fume in his anger, his cheeks flaming a tomato red.

“Now, now. Renjun needs a partner. Why don’t you spin the bottle?” Jisung passes the bottle, still giggling.

He desperately wants to hurl the bottle out of the window, but he takes the bottle anyway, squeezing Jisung’s fingers painfully while he’s at it.

“I’m going to kill you when this is over.” Renjun seethes.

“Ow, ow.” Jisung gasps and wrings his hand away. “Not even a thank you?”

“Fuck off.” Renjun slams the bottle on the floor and takes a cursory look at the entire group, all of them with their varied expressions, and his lips set into a thin wry line.

He inhales one fistful gulp of air, and then he spins the bottle.

-

The harsh and sterile overhead light of the bathroom causes Renjun’s head to pulse throbbingly. He paces around the space, too overwrought by his deafening thoughts, though in reality, they are sharing the space in complete silence.

“Fucking kiss and get it over with!!!” Donghyuck hollers as he pounds on the door.

“Shut up!!!” He yells back, voice resounding in the toilet.

“Renjun?” Jeno pipes up timidly, and he recoils when Renjun flits his head around, his glare deadly.

“We don’t have to… kiss.” He assures, shamefaced.

 _Of CoURsE THeY Don’T HAvE tO KiSS_. 

Fact is, it’s just a fucking game, and it’s not like they are held by gunpoint in any case. However, he’s fairly sure Jeno doesn’t understand the inner turmoil happening in his head. Because he chose Jeno with the bottle he spun himself, and that in itself is a fucking unimaginable feat. There’s surely some otherworldly forces at play, a conspiracy in some way, for there’s absolutely no reason why they’re the last couple for the game, no logical explanation why the bottle managed to land on Jeno, of all people.

 _Yes, they don’t have to kiss_ , somehow contradictory as he works it out in his head, too exhausted to rein in on his surging emotions. He will unabashedly pin it on the alcohol bubbling in his system if anyone asks, because deep down in the deepest recesses of his mind, he has the urge to. He doesn’t want it to happen in such a way, not so flippantly perhaps, and definitely not when Jeno is looking at him like he just wants to bolt out the room when the seventh-minute mark comes round.

It also doesn’t help when he’s in a slightly tipsy condition where his principles are easily influenced by his carnal desires.

“Do you want to though?” He throws caution to the wind.

Jeno baulks, jaw hanging. “W—What?”

Renjun moves closer, and Jeno tries to school his expression of composure as he retreats, but Renjun reads him like an open book anyway.

“Do you want to kiss me, Jeno?”

“I—I… You don’t have to kiss me, I know you hate to, I saw your reaction when the bottle landed on me.” Jeno retorts nervously. The back of his knees hits the rim of the toilet bowl, and the abrupt contact causes a gasp to escape from his mouth.

“No, you’re mistaken.” Renjun tilts sideways to put down the toilet seat, and he pushes Jeno down by his shoulders. He straddles over Jeno’s lap easily, arms perched over his shoulders and he intertwined his fingers behind his neck. The surrounding air grew thick but his eyes stayed locked on him, the distance of their faces a mild inconvenience… for now.

“I don’t loathe that the bottle landed on you.”

“You don’t?” Jeno stiffly asks, body frozen on the toilet seat.

“Nope,” He stresses the last syllabus with a loud pop, and Jeno’s eyes dart down at his lips for a second before it comes back up to his irises.

“Can I kiss you then? You know, just… in fun.” Renjun downplays, his lips are upturned. If Jeno cranes his neck down he could probably hear his heart pounding, and that would be humiliating for his image, but no, he couldn’t have known.

Something crosses on Jeno’s face, perhaps a spike of surprise, hurt, confusion, he’s not sure, but it disappears as quickly it comes.

“Are you guys in heaven yet?” Jisung calls out, and both of them jolts in shock. Jeno’s hands fly up on Renjun’s waist to steady their postures, which Renjun responds with a coy grin.

“So? What’s your answer?”

Admittedly it wasn’t what he expected when Jeno willingly leaned in, the tip of their noses touching, even pausing there long enough till Renjun lets out a frustrated whine. “Yes.” Jeno consents finally, and Renjun surges forward without any hesitation.

Their lips brushed innocently at first, light pecks in experimentation, but Renjun quickly grows impatient. He draws back his hands and clasps them on both sides of Jeno’s face, guiding him as the kisses progress more heatedly. He slips his tongue in, savouring the startled groan when he explores his mouth. Jeno’s hands stay respectfully fixed on his waist the whole time, _cute_ , and Renjun breaks off midway, a snort escaping. “You can touch me, you know?” 

Sheepish, Jeno nods immediately and runs his hand gingerly on Renjun’s back, the touch sending shivers down his spine. Renjun pulls him closer until there’s no space left between them as he delves back into Jeno’s mouth, loving the feel of their lips sliding against each other. His hand traverses under Jeno’s t-shirt, feeling the sinewy lines bumping upon his skin, the radiating heat has Renjun sinking into the warmth. In the heat of the moment, he grinds his hips down, and a hiss escapes from Jeno. They pull back to stare breathily at each other in an odd way, as if they’re discovering each other once again.

“Rude.” Jeno rebukes hotly, finger pressing the piercing at the bottom of his lip. He plants a chaste kiss right at that spot before he kisses him again. Renjun’s mind runs amok, an incredulous and heated glint flashing across his features at that provocative gesture. Oh boy, this could get a tad dangerous. Renjun is sure they don’t have much time left, time’s always a blur when he’s enjoying something, in this case, _kissing,_ and the realization elicits a chuckle.

“I’m impressed. You’re surprisingly good at kissing.” Renjun simpers when they pull apart, chest heaving, ignoring his heart beating erratically in his chest.

Jeno looks surprised, perturbed almost, and Renjun can’t help but bury his hand into his hair to smoothen out the mess he’s unconsciously done on his head.

“I’m not so sure about that…”

Renjun raised an eyebrow quizzingly.

“Erm… This is my first time.” He coughs embarrassedly. 

Renjun’s hand on his hair turns rigid, brain spluttering from the unexpected reveal. “First time— You mean this is your first time kissing???” 

“Y—Yeah.”

He shoots up from his lap in a frenzy, appalled and horrified at the situation. “Why didn’t you tell me?!”

“I—I’m fine if it’s _you_ though…” Jeno trails off meekly, standing up too. Oh god, one look at Jeno, with his dishevelled appearance, blown out irises and swollen lips, Renjun just wants to kill himself. He wouldn’t have known that this was Jeno’s first kiss, it’s fucking juvenile and absurd sounding if he thinks about it— Fuck, now he’s behaving like a condescending jerk.

“Jeno, oh my god. I’m sorry—”

Before Renjun could even finish a distant alarm blares loud enough to jerk them out of their discussion. Conscience-stricken, he holds Jeno’s hand and shakes it gently. “We will talk about this later, okay?”

Renjun unbolts the door, and nothing will prepare him when someone he’s _very_ familiar with appears before him when the door swings open. The last person he expects to see in this party smiles charismatically, still exuding the same brand of charm two years ago.

“Hi?” Yukhei grins.

—

The car ride back is awfully silent.

Which is fine since Jeno could deliberate on how the night has been nothing but a rollercoaster of emotions, beginning from the game, culminating when Renjun kissed him and crashing with a spectacular end when Renjun leaves the party with a stranger, instead of being in his arms.

_R—right._

_Yukhei._ The name rolls off weirdly round his tongue. He licks his lips unconsciously, somehow, he still could taste Renjun's lips. He remembers the look of surprise on Renjun’s face the most and something constricts in his chest, but he shrugs it off his mind. Renjun does stick out like a sore thumb with his appearance, but with Yukhei’s arrival, their similar tattooed appearances do diminish the attention somewhat.

“Today was fun! Right… guys?” Mark tries to make conversation. He borrowed his family car for the occasion, just right for seven boys, but the absence of just one person on their way back to their apartments makes the car appear more empty for some reason.

The tension is palpable in the air. Jisung’s preferred setting is mute by this point, Jaemin isn’t even subtle with it when he keeps turning his head to glance in Jeno’s direction. It was obvious to all of them they had kissed, and their plan would have concluded perfectly if not for the untimely arrival of Renjun’s insufferable ex.

“Who is Yukhei?” Chenle asks, oblivious to the restlessness in the air, bringing a collective groan in the car.

“Okay, that’s it. We are all adults here, let’s not make this even more dramatic than it has to be.” Donghyuck whips his head around from the front passenger seat. “Yukhei is Renjun’s first love and ex. And he was a dick.” He stresses the last word with undisguised contempt. “Two years ago, he had the nerve to leave a fucking post-it for Renjun out of the blue saying he’s leaving for the States to work as a tattoo artist and hone his craft. Renjun, the dumbass, still tried to make the long-distance thing work. Obviously, it just couldn’t work out in the end. Although he was devastated, he didn’t want to hold him back from his dreams. But guess what?”

“WHAT?” Chenle demands, absorbed.

“We had a mutual friend in the States too, and he saw Yukhei kissing a girl on the street a week after their breakup.”

“NO WAY.”

“Now tell me, what kind of asshole kisses someone else mere days after a breakup?” Donghyuck grouses.

“The douchey kind,” Mark answers for him, and Donghyuck concurs aggressively.

“Even till now, Renjun doesn’t know. So for the love of God, don’t ever speak about this matter when he’s around.” Jaemin warns Chenle especially, and he nods gravely, mimicking the zipping of his lips. “I promise.”

“But Yukhei is back,” Jeno speaks up for the first time in the car, and his eyes make quick contact with Mark in the rear-view mirror. “What do you think he’s back for?”

“To fuck Renjun's life up once again— but you already know the answer," Jisung replies coolly.

It's a wonder how Jisung never seems to learn to mince his words, but the effect is already done.

-

He’s already awake since forty minutes ago, but there’s just something calming about the white ceiling as he stares motionlessly. Truth be told, he’s not ready to answer the flood of questions that awaits him when he leaves the room. 

To say yesterday was full of surprises was an understatement. Renjun was still reeling from all of it when he collapsed into his bed. The last thing he recalls before his mind slips past unconsciousness was Jeno’s lips, and he would be lying if he said he didn’t already commit their brief makeout session to memory. “ _That was my first kiss.”_ The words echoed in his mind, contrition overwhelming his senses and leaving a hollowness in his gut. Renjun sighs and rubs at his sleep-filled eyes, and when his eyes flutter open the compass tattooed on his left wrist catches his attention.

The tattoo was one of the first that Yukhei has inked on him. He liked the symbolism behind a compass, and he drew multiple versions before finalising on the design, a simplistic geometric artwork with outlines of the map. It represents his pursuit of finding his way in the world, and also acts as a reminder for him to be stringent as he navigates through life and important decisions or choices. 

Clearly he hasn’t been taking it to heart with the way everything has turned out.

Yukhei’s appearance was shocking, but it’s also not exactly unpremeditated. He should have figured that’s the reason why Yangyang and the rest turned up for the party. Where else but a social gathering where everyone can get back in touch and hear stories of Yukhei, who in a daring move, simply quit university in pursuit of his dreams?

In that short time they catch up with each other yesterday, it’s still surreal that Yukhei has returned, and supposedly, for good. His stint overseas was fruitful enough that he was poached by an established tattoo studio in Seoul, and that was when he thought it was time to return home. More tattoos fill up his skin and Yukhei looks even more muscly than he remembered. 

The door suddenly whips open, _there they are_ , his best friends coming for his life as they surround his bed. Somehow he thinks he resembles a patient from the tv shows where the doctors, these three in this case, studies him with identical foreshadowing expressions.

“Doctor, am I dying?” He cracks sardonically, earning no laughs from any of them.

“You will if you don’t get up this second.”

-

“Maybe you guys are thinking way too hard—”

“Maybe you’re thinking way too lightly about this, Renjun,” Jaemin interjects with a glare. Shutting up meekly, he sips the last of his chocolate milk, the straw slurping sounds the only sound reverberating in the room. At what point did he miss the chance to skin them alive for their ploy though? It’s annoying they’re grilling him now about his short catching up session with Yukhei.

“Let’s stop talking about that asshole. On to more positive things—” Donghyuck dusts his hands. “So how was your seven minutes in heaven with Jeno?” 

The straw escapes out of his mouth. “Er. It was… alright.”

An understatement to start the day, he supposes.

“And?”

“And…?” He parrots, not really following.

“Does it bring butterflies in your stomach, do you feel like taking your relationship with him further, even better, do you feel like dating him?”

_Ah._

Those are questions he has given significant thought an hour ago.

And it’s not easy answering those questions.

There is attraction, he won’t lie. Jeno’s not his usual preferred type, his preference is usually the broader, towering build kind of guys, i.e. Yukhei. But there’s something inexplicable about Jeno that draws him in, from his mannerisms and little quirks to his endearing bashfulness and unwavering kindness. The sweetest man he’s ever met by far, his purity irks him sometimes, but he can’t help but respect him for it as well. Renjun knows himself, his fiery attitude can rub off the wrong way, and he should really do something about his forthrightness. That he has much to learn from Jeno. 

It’s remarkably different when he compares his feelings for Yukhei to Jeno. Yukhei will always carry a weight in his heart, first love rights after all, but two years of picking up the pieces and moving on from the dejection have cleared his mind about lots of things. Time proved that liking Yukhei was a torrid affair, love then was quite indistinguishable from lust, their passion sparked off by a youthful ardency. Blinded and obsessed, he would walk right into the flames willingly, deluding himself that the conflicts and fights were just part and parcel of all relationships. 

But with Jeno, it’s uncanny— frightening even— how they can go from strangers with a foolish feud to their current state. Opposites attract, a hackneyed old saying, but he finds it true for him. He leads by emotion, Jeno by logic, and somehow this creates a harmonious balance. The feelings don't feel transitory, on the contrary, it feels more like a slow build of mutual understanding and quiet rapport instead. Perhaps it’s wise to finally admit to himself what he was averse to confront, that he has steadily grown his feelings for the nerdy kid he first saw in the cafe.

“Renjun?” Jaemin waves his hand to attract his attention.

Renjun sighs, running his hand through his bedraggled hair. “Alright, I do like him.”

The shit-eating grins are excruciating to bear when it’s threefold.

—

The party was a week ago, but it felt like it was only just yesterday. Things Jeno finds himself doing on the regular nowadays is gazing at the photos of Renjun and him cuddling on the back of Yuta’s car, his lips splitting in a fond grin remembering their kisses, but the joy dissolves quickly as it came when he remembers the look on Renjun when Yukhei appeared at the party. He has barely spoken more than ten words to Yukhei, but with what he has learned of that man from Donghyuck and the rest, he quickly formed his perceptions of him and they’re not remotely friendly.

He spent the entire afternoon googling on ‘How to behave around friends I just snogged with’ and still doesn’t come near with a solution in his head. He plonks himself on the bed and presses a pillow on his face for a short while, vaguely hearing someone entering his room just then. No one spoke up, and curiously he pulled his pillow slightly away from his face to find Mark leaning down to look at his laptop. Groaning out in distress, he chucks his pillow across, but it only hits Mark’s back with a soft thud.

“I see someone has their share of relationship problems.” Mark picks his pillow and plants himself in his chair and swivels it around amusedly, an undeniable curiosity etched on his features. “Want to talk about it?”

Already there’s a quick refusal at the tip of his tongue, but he falters, the need for help taking precedence over his dignity. He raises his head from the bed, cheeks slightly pink as he bravely asks, “How do you know when you like someone?”

Thankfully Mark doesn’t poke fun of his dilemma and only gazes at him sympathetically. “Most of the time, when that question forms in your head, you already know you like him and you’re just seeking some form of validation.”

 _Him_. _Renjun_. It’s interchangeable at this point of discussion. He’s sure Mark already knows, and it’s redundant to specify who he’s referring to.

“When we kissed, it felt real. Like it wasn’t a game between us, I saw it in his eyes.” Jeno scrubs his palm over his face, perplexed. “I can’t help but bear hope there’s a possibility he might feel the same for me. But I also know it could all just be one-sided, and it will be devastating if he turns me down. We might not even continue as friends…”

“There’s that possibility, not gonna lie, now _that ex_ is back.” Mark solemnly nods, a clarification right after when he sees Jeno’s crestfallen expression. “But there is also a possibility he feels the same way too. It just boils down to whether or not you’re willing to try.”

Surprisingly, it doesn’t take very long for Jeno to answer.

“You know what?” Jeno remarks, rising from his bed in an uncharacteristic display of dauntlessness. “I’m actually going to try.”

"What are you going to do?" Mark asks, his brow raised.

" _Confess_."

-

Finding Renjun on campus is difficult when he’s hardly ventured on his side of campus, they usually gather at the park benches, the cafeteria, or the skatepark. But he gathered word from Jisung that Renjun should be in his studio for his afternoon schedule, and Jeno made sure to plan his confession around that detail. He has worked the event out in the privacy of his room, rehearsed it with Mark who _unhelpfully_ convulsed with uncontrollable laughter the whole duration, but if Elle and Cosmopolitan magazines swear by it, he’s quite sure the preparation is planned just right.

Even if Renjun suggested in a text to meet the day after to ‘discuss things out’, most likely about their 7 minutes in heaven issue, he’s not going to wait till then. It’s meant to be a surprise after all.

Wearing one of Mark’s two-piece suits, (“Why is it fucking pink, Mark? Don’t you have other normal ones?” Jeno wailed, but Mark attested that pink is best for his occasion, and he has no choice or experience but to trust him.) with his hair casually gelled up and glasses replaced with his contacts. Besides, he picked up peonies (“Peonies symbolizes romance, for you bashful lovers out there!” Cosmo says) from the florist and made his way to the third floor of the fine arts block. His strange and unfamiliar appearance draws interest from the people he passes, it’s uncommon to see a stunning man in a pink suit carrying a bouquet in the middle of the day after all.

He doesn’t know how he finds the confidence to wander into Renjun’s territory looking like a corny fool, but he guesses love really does make people do foolish things.

“Last studio in the left corridor…” He mutters, smiling courteously when he passes a group of girls, paying no attention to the shy squeals that ruptured from them. He finds the room without any problems, but the only complication now is attributed to his heart leaping out of his chest, palms shaking in a bundle of nerves.

He works out the steps in his head, twice to be sure, and he exhales out a breath to calm himself before sliding the door open. What he sees is an enclosed space in much disarray, numerous easels and canvases scattered around the workroom, cans of paints stacked high on the right wall of the studio. There’s an acute odour in the air, the blend of various chemicals causing his nose to scrunch up delicately. Once he’s accustomed to the smell he tries to spot Renjun in the clutter, eventually finding him half-concealed by a towering frame in front of him. He observes him at work in rapt silence, brows furrowed as he’s engrossed with the canvas.

There’s that feeling in his chest again, inevitable now that he’s certain about his feelings. His heart brims with anticipation, anxiety and affection all at once, and it takes so much for him not to crush the bouquet in his palms as he deftly strides into the room.

However, he senses another presence in the room, his steps faltering. He head turns with the movement of the stranger, only the tip of his head peeking through the jumble as he approaches Renjun. Renjun tilts his head to acknowledge the man with a smile that lightens up the room, and Jeno feels his insides churn in envy when he witnesses that.

The man moves again, his profile slowly inching and it doesn’t take a second for Jeno to register the man to be Yukhei when he finally comes into view. He bends down before the canvas and jokes with the paintbrush inching close to the artwork. Renjun exasperatedly yells at him to stop, Yukhei acquiesces, but only after he pokes Renjun’s cheek with the pointy end of the brush, the other hand stroking on Renjun’s lap, the gesture looking far from artless.

If Jeno reads the mood right, he’s intruding onto something veering on intimate, a sense of accustomed familiarity discerned through their actions. And the discovery is akin to shards piercing through his chest, and he turns his head away, a pained gasp escaping.

The room turns silent, though it’s not for long.

“Jeno?” He hears his name, and his head involuntarily shoots up to find Renjun and Yukhei staring at him. Renjun slowly rises from his bench in an ephemeral expression of concern, quickly evolving into one of comprehension of the situation. Jeno swallows the bile rising his throat, burning eyes returning to the floor immediately. He stares at the flowers as if deriding him for all his efforts, and in anguish, he tosses the bouquet to the ground. The only thing he wants to do right now is flight, to escape, and that’s what he does.

He hears Renjun call him again, yells at him to stop running, but he doesn’t relent. Evasion has always been his solution, he’s mastered it the hard way in the past, and he’s sure it will work the same for him now. 

-

Did he fuck things up? It sure feels like he did when Jeno appeared unexpectedly in his studio and fled without an explanation. In the seconds of stillness before it crashes all apart, several thoughts were emerging all at once, but there was really only one thing that stood out. That is, he found himself extremely delighted to see him, even though it was just a week they last saw each other.

A pink suit should look ridiculous on anyone, and christ sakes, the black backpack draped on his shoulder doesn't even fit the intended look. But he can't help the dumb grin forming on his face, because despite all that, it was still endearingly Jeno, so much so that his heart skipped a beat when he saw him at the door. And there was the flower bouquet, the pinnacle of every classic representation of someone about to make a love confession.

God, he's in love with an absolute dork.

He picks up the bouquet and makes sure they aren’t damaged, barely suppressing a grin when he sees the card wedged between the flowers, the most basic saying of all time embossed on the card.

_I love you._

“What’s going on?” Yukhei asks, a curious expression on his face.

“Wha—?” Renjun grins absentmindedly as he types out a text for Jeno when he ignores his calls.

“Your friend. Jeno, right? What happened?”

Renjun loosens the knot on his apron, a giggle escaping. “What does this look like?” He tilts the bouquet, and Yukhei snorts brusquely, arms circling Renjun in a possessive manner.

“Poor guy.”

Renjun backs away, the condescending tone prickling at his ears. “I like him, Yukhei.”

That wipes the smile on his face, his expression stiffening. Yukhei yanks Renjun’s arm, invading his space even when Renjun tries to shake off his hold. “But I came back for you, my muse,” Yukhei says with the familiar endearment, but Renjun’s nonplussed by how disconcerting it sounds now after it's been so long. “Let’s try again. Both of us. I promise to be better this time.”

He turns his head away when Yukhei leans in for a kiss, shoving him with a hard push. It’s funny how he desperately prayed for such words in the past, even envisioning it to happen in his head. If it happened then, he was sure he would take Yukhei back in a heartbeat, hook, line, and sinker. But this is at best a hollow victory, a promise of little significance now.

“Aww.” Renjun backs away, repelled. “But you’re kind of late.”

With his rejection Yukhei’s face set like an adversary, eyes frigid, muscles tense, no trace of tenderness left on his striking features. He scorns, lips curling downwards. “You're going to regret it later. You’re going to come back crawling for me, just like you did every single time in the past.”

Every punctuated word is scathing, the words should sting, they were representative of the kind of person he became when he was with Yukhei. _Disposable_ , a burnt-out wreck at the end, a spectacular finish for a destructive relationship. But now the time is on his side, and he wasn't the same Renjun two years ago. Still, he has Yukhei to thank. His arrival means a chapter closes, and with overwhelming lucidity, he’s finally ready to have his heart stolen all over again. 

Renjun doesn’t break his eye contact, defiance growing as he stares straight back with a deep loathing.

“Sure, but don’t bet on it.”

-

Moping in his room is the same as normally shutting himself in his room if he thinks positively. Apart from the wailing and sniffles and his new favourite buddy, _Kleenex_ , there isn’t that much difference.

_Oh, who is he kidding?_

It’s got to be a record if he has cried his heart out for six hours. He’s not even a crier generally; he didn’t even shed a tear for that Miracle in Cell No.7 movie, but fuck, his heart feels like it’s been torn into a thousand pieces, and everything feels so fucking maddening and depressing. He thought heartache would give way to dislike immediately, but damn, he still likes Renjun so much it’s killing him. 

Maybe it would be better tomorrow. By the next week, he would have forgotten him and moved on. He's sure of it.

He picks out muffled voices outside his room, quick shuffling of feet, and then he hears the quick rapt on his door.

“I said I’m fine! Go away!!” He yells, sniffling. 

“Open the door, Jeno.”

He freezes, wide-eyed. That’s— That’s Renjun’s voice.

“Do you want me to wait with your two overly protective best friends who look like they want to kill me in any second?”

“Should I?” Chenle shouts.

 _Bad idea_ , he pictures them together and scurries anxiously to his door, swinging it open. Mark and Chenle legitimately looked homicidal, in contrast, Renjun has a relieved smile forming on his features. Unceremoniously jostling his way into the room, Renjun slams the door on Mark and Chenle’s faces and locks it for good measure.

Renjun takes one sweeping glance to the room, taking notice of all the tissues scattered around the room. “Looks like someone has been crying.”

“Jerk,” Jeno grumbles peevishly and discards the tissues into the trash can and Renjun stifles a grin. Jeno cleans himself up just as Renjun settles on his bed with the bouquet he brought along.

“I have questions.” Renjun raises his finger. “You bolt without saying a word in the afternoon. Why?”

Witnessing that scene, Jeno wishes to say ‘I caught that asshole touching you and you didn’t even flinch’ or ‘You two look so chummy and I felt so pathetic’, but those don't carry the entirety of feelings. Thus, he settled with a terse, “Just because.”

“Sit with me.” Renjun calmly says, patting on the vacant spot on his side.

Jeno deliberates, teethers on his feet for several seconds. He sighs eventually and paces over to sit gingerly on the bed.

“I will share with you a few things now, but you have to promise later you will answer my questions. Alright?”

It feels like a reversal of sorts when Jeno is sulking, he’s supposed to be the rational one after all, and the way Renjun’s speaking to him feels like he’s trying to cajole a petulant child. “Jeno.” He glances when he doesn’t get a response.

“I promise.”

“I assumed the rest have already told you about my past with Yukhei.” He begins, his assumption proven correct when Jeno bites his lips unconsciously. “We were… as you’ve already known, pretty intense. Even when we were fighting so often, I held on to the happy moments, I was that deluded. And it killed me when he just, simply, upped and left using the most heartless method ever.”

“A post-it.” Jeno supplies softly.

“A fucking post-it.” Renjun wryly smiles, wiping his palms restlessly on his lap. “Does that mean we’re done? Were we over? I didn’t know. And I begged him to make it work. I wanted to make it work. We tried, or I tried mostly. It was already a lost cause, and eventually, I came to terms with that. I was so lost… there was this sudden void in me that I tried to fill up— with alcohol. Lots of it.”

Renjun shakes his head ruefully, reminiscing the bittersweet memories where he made countless otiose visits to the clubs and drank himself to utter death. “I was so emotionally destroyed, but I was lucky I had such close friends who comforted me during that time. Donghyuck, Jaemin, Jisung, Sicheng hyung, they made me realize I shouldn’t waste my life over someone who takes me for granted. It’s just a little harder when I have all these tattoos that reminded me of the very person I wanted to move on from.”

“I still like them.” Jeno shifts closer, inching his hand to stroke the flowers on his wrist, a painfully honest and fleeting gesture, nevertheless, Renjun’s heart still hammers rapidly with his touch. 

“Hmm,” Renjun hums, a crude thought bubbling in his head. “I can show _all_ of my tattoos to you when this talk is done. Just for you.”

Jeno’s mouth hangs low, comprehension unmistakable on his features. “Are you flirting right now? My heart was broken just hours ago.”

Renjun cracks out a hearty laugh, enjoying while Jeno's face burns up red. “Alright, I digress. But I’m telling you this because I know you assumed something happened between us in the studio earlier. And I swear to god, we are over. It has been the case since two years ago.”

Jeno’s eyes travel as Renjun picks up the bouquet, his index carefully smoothing the petals. “Now, it’s your turn to tell me what you’re planning to do when you crashed into my studio.”

It’s perhaps redundant, their desire for each other evident at this point, but he has to hear Jeno say it loud and clear, elucidating it into something more tangible. 

Jeno exhales out a lengthy sigh, runs his hands into his hair. “It was supposed to be a surprise— a surprise confession.” Jeno trails off, gaze focusing on the floor. “I— Uh. I wanted to tell you that… I like you, Renjun.”

Heart bursting with affection, Renjun cups Jeno’s cheek and gently brushes away a dried tear on the top of his cheekbone. “Me too— I like you too.” He confesses with fierce vehemence. But Jeno avoids his gaze and Renjun roams over his countenance, registering the look of vulnerability, the visceral fear of rejection that comes with his insecurities still lingering even with their mutual confession. Renjun frowns, nudges Jeno’s chin to seek his attention. 

“You don’t trust me.”

Jeno swallows, eyes fluttering shut, opening a second later, his expression apologetic. “It’s just me. I have trust issues. Give me some time—”

Actions speak louder than words, thus Renjun leaned in, lips parted and crushes their lips together. He feeds into the desire, sliding on Jeno’s lap as unruly hands traverse under his shirt. “R—Renjun.” Jeno breathlessly exclaims. “Wait.”

“I like you,” Jeno emphasises, his tone urgent for Renjun to understand where he’s coming from. “I want to go on dates with you. I want to go to your favourite museums, I can teach you about code—” Renjun’s face contorts at that, and Jeno chastises with a pinch of his arm. “—I just need to know that you’re feeling the same way too.”

Renjun tilts his head at that, the insinuation that he’s not taking this as seriously puts him in a slightly surly mood. Now it’s his turn to pout, and he crosses his arm in slight indignation.

“You’re awfully sceptical.”

“It’s just—” Jeno mutters, scratching his head. “Something I read on…”

Renjun sighs and interlaces his fingers into Jeno’s. “What fucking relationship advice book did you read now?”

“C-Cosmopolitan.”

“COSMO— FUCK—” Renjun shrilly guffaws and rolls off Jeno, doubling up in unbridled laughter as Jeno whines, his face hidden in his palms. “I hate you.”

Recovering after a minute, Renjun uncurls himself from the secondhand embarrassment, the last of the giggles leaving his system. “Oh god. Jeno. You will be the death of me.”

“YOU will be the death of me.” Jeno retorts grumpily, and Renjun smirks, presses a placatory peck on Jeno’s cheek. He nuzzles up to Jeno for a hug, the familiar warmth of his skin seeped into him, their hearts beating together in tandem. Staying like this as they lull into a comfortable silence, just the two of them at this precise moment; _this_ , this easy tranquillity and sense of belonging, it's exactly what he wants. It's in his presence he learns to rest; and in his embrace, he feels right at home. 

Perhaps it’s too premature to think about their future, today’s barely the start of their relationship, but he’s optimistic. Optimistic of what they can be, the magic of new beginnings too alluring to give up on when it’s Jeno he’s in love with.

“Please trust me now, I really like you so fucking much, Jeno.” He says earnestly, cheek pressed up against his neck as he pleads. “Will you date me now?”

Jeno pulls away with an overjoyed chuckle, _finally_ , an infectious smile bursting, and Renjun breaks into a grin too. “Alright, let’s date.” A bashful look and he leans forward, pulling Renjun closer. And he hovers right there, the tip of their noses nearly touching, both perfectly contented with each other’s presence. 

Looking into those open and sincere eyes, Renjun feels true happiness, neither conjured through active imagination nor reason, but a rudimentary state of being that swells in adoration when he’s simply with Jeno. It’s the strangest feeling, but he finds he could really get used to this.

*Immanuel Kant

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry I know Lucas is such a sweetheart  
> please dont fite me ><
> 
> P.s. just a further add-on, i wrote this fic with the breakfast club in mind. Perhaps you may find the characters flawed; hypocritical even as they slowly become friends, but I think it’s something ingrained in us (or me at the very least) to make the mistake of assuming people’s character just from impressions alone. 
> 
> Food for thought I guess? Lol
> 
> ღ Comment and kudos appreciated! ღ
> 
> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/dyoinjun) | [cc](https://curiouscat.me/dyoinjun)


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